


Lipstick

by littleboxesofstars



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Romance, richie's parents are here too, they're kinda important, this is very cheesy and self indulgent tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: Richie and Eddie’s eyes meet across the street. And sure, it might have been romantic, if Eddie didn’t happen to be in a skirt with a wig and full face of makeup at the time, and Richie hadn’t jogged over to ask him to “please, could you pretend to be my girlfriend so my parents don’t think I’m gay?” Eddie knows that getting involved with a straight boy is a dumb thing to do, but on the other hand Richie is very, very cute, and he doesn’t really have anything else going on today. So he agrees.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Eddie does wear makeup in this fic (so do Stan, Richie, and the rest of them by the end) but he is not hyperfeminized or anything like that. this fic was inspired by UNHhhh (the trixie and katya show), a rediscovery of troye sivan's music, and a fanart I saw of Eddie with a rainbow highlight on his cheekbones. also posted to my tumblr @trash-the-tozier

“But I do have a girlfriend!” 

There were very few things in the world that could make Eddie Kaspbrak stop listening to his music, especially when Marina and the Diamonds was playing, but that loud shout did the trick. Feeling startled, Eddie pulled his earbuds from his ears and looked across the street towards the source of the noise. He was met with the sight of a tall guy, young and gangly and around Eddie’s own age, walking backwards down the sidewalk as he faced an older couple. Despite the indignance in his voice he had a spring in his step, and the similarities between himself and the couple in front of him--most notably, the woman’s dark curly hair and the man’s thick glasses--had Eddie guessing that they were the guy’s parents. 

“Richie, why don’t you just get back together with Beverly?” The woman asked, and the guy Eddie figured had to be Richie rolled his eyes at her.

“I was never dating Beverly, Mom!” Eddie’s family assumption seemed to be correct, and he found himself losing interest, turning his eyes back to his phone, reaching for his earbuds to replace them in his ears. “I never was dating her; that would be like dating my sister! Super weird. Bill dated her for a while, though.”

Eddie’s ears pricked. Bill? Beverly? It seemed like an unbelievable coincidence, but Eddie was friends with a Bill, a Bill that had an ex-girlfriend named Beverly Marsh. Eddie glanced back over, looking more scrutinizingly at the stranger to see if he recognized him. It seemed way too “small world” to be true, but if they went to the same college campus, maybe they’d met before.

The woman, however, didn’t look very convinced.

“But she used to visit us with you all the time! What happened?”

“She’s taking more classes this semester, and she’s super involved with the university’s Disability Alliance now. Lots of volunteer work and stuff. She just doesn’t have time.” 

“Okay, so you say you have a girlfriend.” The guy’s father stuffed his hands in his pockets, his mustache furrowed, speaking slowly. “And she goes to this school? She’s on campus?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then let’s meet her.” 

“Dad, no!” Richie’s eyes took on a frantic sort of look, glancing anywhere but his father’s face, and Eddie realized in amusement that this Richie was lying about being in a relationship. “We just started dating, that would be so weird, I--”

In Richie’s frantic turning this way and that, his eyes met Eddie’s across the street. Richie seemed to freeze completely, his voice dying, just staring back at him. Eddie knew then that he’d never met Richie in his life, because he was blushing just from looking at him. Richie was incredibly cute, with thin features and high cheekbones, the kind of tall that made Eddie’s knees go embarrassingly weak. And while he was busy staring, cute guy said something to his parents that Eddie completely didn’t hear, and the next moment, to Eddie's great surprise, jogged across the street in his direction. 

Eddie stopped in his tracks, and Richie came to a halt right in front of him.

“Um… Hi.” Eddie said after a few moments, because this guy was still just looking at him with an expression Eddie couldn’t quite place. Despite the November chill in the air, it was starting to make Eddie’s body feel a little too warm. 

“Hey.” Something about the guy’s voice sounded breathless, and Eddie wasn't quite sure what to do with that, either.

“What, um…” Eddie managed to pull himself together. “What do you want?” 

The question sounded stupid as he said it, but Eddie was glad he did because it seemed to snap the Richie guy from whatever trance had been possessing him, and he started to speak. 

“Oh, right. Okay. So… Hi, I'm Richie.” He gave an awkward wave. “And those people over there are my parents.”

Eddie nodded. He knew all of that already.

“And… And I told them I have a girlfriend, which is a complete fucking lie.” 

Eddie nodded again. Richie paused, seemingly embarrassed, his next words coming out in a bit of a rush.

“But I really need them to believe me because they saw a picture on my phone of me kissing a guy dressed as Spiderman on Halloween and it was just a dare, it was nothing, but if they think I’m gay--”

“So what if you’re kissing Spiderman?” Eddie asked, frowning. “It’s 2018. You can kiss whoever you want.”

“I know that. It’s just, my parents…” Richie glanced back at the adults in question, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, Eddie watching until he noticed he was staring and quickly looking away. “I don’t think they’d be okay with it.” 

“Oh.” Eddie said softly. He knew what it was like to have parents that weren't accepting of sexuality and self expression. Still though, he wasn't sure why Richie was telling him all of this.

“Yeah.” Richie said, seeming to realize the faults of his explanation at the same moment and powering on. “And this is super fucking weird, and I understand if you don't want to help me, but I was wondering… Could you go over there and talk to them? Could you pretend to be my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. The term surprised Eddie for a moment, then his eyes caught on the flats he was wearing and he remembered.  _ Oh, right. I'm dressed up. _

Since Eddie could remember, he'd been interested in makeup. The first time he’d seen makeup on his mother, he’d wanted to know how she’d managed to make her lips look so red like that, and if he could do that to his lips too. So naturally, he’d snooped around. When she’d found his red, clumsily overdrawn mouth she’d reprimanded him harshly, and he learned then that makeup was only for girls. Of course, that hadn’t deterred him. It just taught him to always wash the lipstick off before she got home from work. 

Eddie had a cousin that was sixteen when he was twelve, and she’d let him use her eyeshadow palette, teaching him what each of the little brushes did and giving him some makeup of his own. He didn’t want to become a girl, or anything like that; he just found it all fun and colorful. He wore some makeup to class a couple of times in high school, but despite how fierce his friends were, bullies always had something to say about it.

College was different, and it delighted him. Eddie could do what he wanted and wear what he wanted, and when Bill had gifted him a wig as a joke, Eddie had been surprised to find that it suited him. He decided to just try putting on a full face, putting on a skirt, and seeing what happened. But nobody had batted an eye, and since then, just for the fun of it--on the few occasions that he felt like putting the work in, that is--he would dress himself up. It truly was an awfully convenient alternative for the days when he really didn’t feel like putting on pants.

Today had been one of those days, and Eddie had on leggings, a skirt, a long sleeve shirt, and a brown wig that went past his shoulders. The scarf around his neck was doing an excellent job at hiding how flat his chest was, and he’d gone for some pretty simple makeup, with a small addition of warm purple to match his outfit.

“Please?” Richie asked again, bringing Eddie back to the predicament at hand. Agreeing was a dumb thing to do, and he knew that, but on the other hand Richie was very cute, and he didn’t really have anything else going on today. Besides, he figured; if the straight guy and his conservative parents got too weird, he could always rip his wig off and run away. Imagining that scenario was so funny that Eddie thought he might just do that anyway. 

“Sure.” He agreed. “I’ll do it.”

  
  


Richie couldn’t believe it. He’d just asked a girl--an incredibly, unbelievably cute girl--to be his girlfriend, and she’d said yes.

Granted, he’d asked her to only  _ pretend _ to be his girlfriend to keep up a lie for his parents, but she’d said yes all the same, and that was more dating action than he’d managed to get in a good couple of months. Richie wondered briefly if perhaps he should feel down about that, but in the moment he was too happily surprised to care.

Then the girl smiled at him, and Richie nearly felt his knees buckle.

“Do you need me to pick your jaw off the ground for you, or are we going to meet your parents?” She asked. Struggling to collect himself, Richie nodded dumbly and turned, and they started across the street.

“You know, it’s really good that you said yes, because I kinda already told them that I was dating you.” Richie told her. He felt she needed to know. “When I saw you, before I came over here. I said ‘hey, that’s my girlfriend actually’, and ran over.”

The girl raised her eyebrows. 

“Seriously? What would you have done if I didn’t agree?”

Richie didn’t have time to answer because they were in front of his parents now, Maggie and Wentworth Tozier smiling at them expectantly.

“Introduction?” His mother prompted. Richie gestured towards his parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tozier.” He said to her, watching the girl’s lips move as she mouthed the last name.

“And her name, Richie?” His father asked.

“Oh!” Richie discovered in that moment that her name was something he’d never asked for. He had no idea what it was. The girl exchanged a look with him.

“E--” She began.

“Emma!” 

Richie realized a second later that he really should have just let her speak, that she was saying her own name and that he himself was an idiot, but it was too late for all that. He turned to her with wide eyes, begging her to go along with it. 

“Emma Kaspbrak.” She said, and Richie slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. She shook hands with his parents, and Richie hoped desperately that there wouldn’t be any other questions, since he was so ill prepared.

“So Emma, how did you two meet?” His mom asked, almost instantly.

“Mutual friend.” Emma responded without hesitation. “Bill Denbrough, he’s a friend of mine.” 

Richie was sure his eyes were close to bugging out of his head. Bill Denbrough? Bill was his friend, and while Bill did have other friends, friends from high school that Richie hadn’t met, it almost seemed like too much of a coincidence. He examined her a bit closer, wondering if he actually had seen her before, quickly deciding that no, he hadn't. He would remember a face like this.

Her hair was chocolate brown, a warm color that matched her eyes. She had a cute, pointed nose, the bridge of it littered with freckles, the same as her cheeks were. Her cheeks looked incredibly soft and god, her lips did too, pink and shimmery with lipgloss. 

“...coffee?”

Richie only managed to catch the tail end of his father’s question, realizing that the rest of the group was looking expectantly at him.

“Yeah, coffee.” He said vaguely, with no idea what he was agreeing to, and his mother smiled. 

“Excellent! Let’s all go get coffee.”

His parents set off first, Richie falling into step behind them with Emma. Feeling nervous and awkward, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, only to have Emma jab his arm with her elbow.

“Come on, hold my hand.” She said, holding her palm out. That was a good idea, so Richie did, surprised to find her hand was warm. Weren’t girls supposed to have cold hands, especially in the winter? But her hand was soft against his, and he felt his cheeks heating up.

“Nice going back there.” She said to him, just quiet enough so that his parents wouldn’t hear her, amusement in her voice. “That was really smooth of you.”

“Sorry!” Richie was relieved that she’d found the staring funny, instead of creepy. He murmured the next words, more in embarrassment and more to himself. “You’re cute, that’s all.” 

“Oh.” Emma’s voice was equally quiet. They walked in silence for a minute or so, before Richie couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So, uh…” The coffee shop was less than a block away, but he had a couple of things he really wanted to know. “What’s your real name?” 

“Um…” She seemed to struggle internally for a moment. “I’ll tell you later, actually, alright? So you don’t slip up and say the wrong thing.” 

“Okay.” That was smart. Geez, this girl was fast on her feet. “Do you really know Bill Denbrough? How did you know I was friends with him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” She said. “But mostly, I just heard what you were saying, and the Bill I know has an ex named Beverly, so I just took a guess that they were the same guy. Good thing it worked.”

“You could hear me? From all the way over there?”

“You talk really loud.”

Richie grinned sheepishly. “It is one of my many talents.” 

She gave him a small grin, and a second later they arrived.

Once inside the coffee shop, Richie’s parents did most of the talking. They bombarded his poor pseudo-girlfriend with questions, but it was nothing out of the ordinary--age, major, hometown, things like that. She answered all of them readily, looking slightly intimidated, but only as intimidated as a new girlfriend would look when meeting a boyfriend’s parents for the first time. Richie chimed in with a distraction or a joke when he felt she looked a bit too nervous, and she was always able to snark something back at him, her sharp tongue making his heart pound. 

“You almost failed your English class?” She asked, when Richie had volunteered the information for discussion. “Do you not know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’?” 

“Of course I do!” Richie exclaimed back. “The class was just boring. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Really, really stupid.” She said, but a playful grin kept the words from being too scathing, and Richie smiled back.

“You wound me.” 

She just hummed in response, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek in apology. As soon as her lips touched his cheek, Richie was sure his heart exploded. Before he could collect the pieces back together to become a moving, functional human being however, she got to her feet.

“I’ve got to get going.” She said apologetically, and Richie realized that the better part of an hour had passed. “It was really nice to meet everybody, though.”

“You too.” Mr. Tozier said with a smile, and Richie jumped to his feet.

“I’ll walk you.” He offered, and after a moment’s consideration, she nodded her consent. Waving quickly to his parents, Richie followed her out the door. He didn’t want her to go just yet; he wanted to ask her out for real, and for that he wanted her real name. 

It took a couple quiet minutes of walking for him to gather up the courage to say anything at all, and when he spoke, he felt he’d done it a little too loudly.

“Can I learn your name now?” 

“Sure.” She responded, frowning. “But… Could it wait until I get back to my apartment? There’s something I want to tell you first.”

“Uh… Okay.” Richie frowned too; she looked nervous again. “Why? Are you okay? Were my parents too much?”

“Oh, no.” She waved a hand. “They were really nice, actually. Better than I expected, if I'm being honest.”

“Yeah, they’re alright. It’s just that one gay thing that they’re a little weird about.” He shrugged. “And even that’s not so bad. My mom just really, really wants to be a grandma, and since I’m an only child, that message is pretty clear. And my dad will make jokes, but only every once and a while.” 

Emma didn’t respond, something Richie hadn’t yet considered coming to mind.

“Are… Are you gay?” He asked

“Yeah.” She answered simply. Richie tried to keep from looking too crestfallen, not sure that he succeeded.

“Is it like… Only girls, are you more--”

“Could you shut up until we get home?” She asked, the words sudden, and Richie’s step faltered. He nodded a little, doing as he was told, his eyes on his feet. Thankfully, the walk wasn’t much farther, and Emma tried the doorknob to find it already unlocked.

“My roommate is home.” She said in warning, then pushed the door open. Richie expected another girl, instead met with the sight of a young man with an extremely unamused expression, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed. Richie’s mouth went dry.

“Is this your boyfriend?” He asked in a rush. He’d been in a situation like this before, but he was able to say his next words with much more sincerity than he had the last time. “We didn’t do anything, I swear--”

“No! Not my boyfriend.” She cut him off, actually looking amused as she took off her scarf, tossing it onto the couch next to what looked like a rumpled t-shirt. “Just my roommate, like I said. Richie, this is Stan. Stan, Richie.” 

Richie waved in greeting, Stan only looking at him for a moment more before turning his attention to Emma. He was nearly as tall as Richie himself, his brown hair curly. 

“And why is he here?” 

“Because he doesn’t know.” 

“Oh.” Stan stood a little straighter, cracking his knuckles. All this cryptic shit was really becoming worrying. 

“What don’t I know?” Richie asked. “What did you want to tell me?” 

She looked at him for a moment, then reached up, gripped the hair on the top of her head, and pulled. Her hair all came off in one fluid tug, and Richie couldn’t help a small, surprised sound coming from his mouth.

Okay, so not all of her hair had come off. Under the wig was a short, boyish cut, only slightly darker brown than the wig had been. She was looking at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

“So, you have short hair.” Richie said. “So what? You still look cute.” 

She did. The cut really fit her face actually, showing off her nose and her cheekbones better, cheekbones that were currently tinted pink by the compliment. But she was still looking at him like there was something he was missing, and he gasped.

“Oh my god, did you have cancer or something?” 

“Wow.” Stan deadpanned. “He really is an idiot.”

“Could you just tell me?” Richie begged. “What is it?”

“Okay. It’s…” She reached for the hem of her shirt this time, pulling it up and over her head. Richie reached up to cover his eyes, wanting to respect her privacy--though, he thought, she was getting undressed right in front of him--his hands halfway to his face when he realized the action was unnecessary. There was no bra, no boobs, no nothing, just a lean-muscled, distinctly male chest. He gaped, watching as she--was it still she?--reached for the shirt on the couch and tugged it on. “I just met with your parents for nearly an hour, and you don’t know that my name’s Edward.”

Richie felt himself sinking slowly onto the couch, feeling stunned. His dream girl wasn’t a girl at all. He sat there, staring at nothing, his mind spinning, nearly jumping from his skin when Edward spoke.

“Um… Are you going to say something?”

Richie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Stan snorted in laughter behind them.

“Okay then.” Edward shrugged a little. “I’m going to go wash my face off.”

He walked away. Richie felt he couldn’t even move. Was he wrong, to have assumed he was a girl? He’d specifically said girlfriend, though. He remembered that. And he hadn’t been corrected. And she’d simply sat there, smiling and laughing and talking to his parents. 

There was the sound of a door opening, and Richie looked up. Edward was reentering, his face now clean of makeup and very distinctly boyish. He’d also discarded his shoes and tights, though he’d kept on the skirt and the t-shirt, the shirt so large on him that less than a foot of the knee-length skirt was visible under it. He looked nervous as he approached, and Richie was more surprised than anything to find that he still couldn’t shake the fact that this person was cute. Easily cuter than anyone else he’d ever met. Cuter, maybe, than the rest of the human population. 

“Edw--” He started, but was cut off quickly.

“Just call me Eddie. That’s what everyone calls me.” Eddie said quickly. He sat down on the other side of the couch. Richie watched him. “And I am a boy, male pronouns and all that. I just put makeup on sometimes. For fun.” 

Richie simply nodded. 

“So, uh…” He didn’t know why this was his first question, but he couldn’t help it. “When you said you were gay, you meant…”

“Guys, yeah.” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Are you disgusted now, that I kissed you on the cheek?”

“No!” Richie said instantly. He wasn't. In fact, the same fluttery type of feeling he’d had when it happened came back to him instead, but he pushed it down. That was not his first order of concern. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.” 

“It is?” Richie watched as Eddie exhaled slowly. “Oh. Okay. Cool.”

“You, uh…” Richie desperately wanted to say something to break the settling silence. “You’re really good at the whole makeup thing.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth quirked upwards. 

“Because I tricked you?” 

“Not what I meant.” Richie said, and Eddie laughed. “I meant the purple, or whatever, on your eyelids. And was it just me, or did your cheeks kinda glitter when you moved your head?” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s called a highlight.” Eddie smiled at him, and something stirred in Richie’s stomach. “Do… Do you want my number? We seem to have some mutual friends; maybe we could hang out or something.” 

“Sure!” The word sounded stupidly enthusiastic to Richie’s ears, but he couldn’t help himself, pulling his phone from his pocket. Once numbers were exchanged Eddie got to his feet, Richie quickly doing the same.

“You probably need to get back to your parents.” Eddie said. “Seeing as they're on campus to visit you, and all that.”

“Oh, right. Them.” Richie had genuinely forgotten. “Yeah. See you around?”

“Sure.” Eddie said, and Richie slipped out the door.

  
  


As soon as the apartment door closed, Eddie fell face first onto the couch, letting out a loud groan. He was screwed.

Part of him, he knew, had wanted Richie to be upset. To be shocked by the surprise, to tell him off for trickery; to be angry with him. That would make it easy to nip this growing crush in the bud. Instead, Richie had been fine. Said it was okay. Even complimented him, for god’s sake. 

“What was all that about?” Stan’s voice, sounding soft and confused and slightly sympathetic. He had Eddie’s makeup bag in one hand, and Eddie pulled himself into a sitting position. “That Richie guy?”

“He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, so his parents wouldn’t think he was gay.” Eddie explained with a sigh. Stan raised his eyebrows.

“Is he?” He asked. Eddie sighed.

“No. It was some misunderstanding over with a picture or something.” He waved a hand. “I agreed because he said his parents were homophobic, and I thought I could give them a piece of my mind maybe, but… They were really nice. And so was he. Shit.” 

“Eddie…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Eddie said, getting up and taking the makeup. “I know.” 

“You need to be careful.” 

“I am careful.” Most of the time, Eddie did everything he could not to even interact with straight boys, especially the attractive ones. And most of the time, it was easy. They were all gigantic idiots. Not that Richie wasn’t an idiot, but still.

“Having a crush on a straight person sucks.” Stan said, sitting down on the couch. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Trust me, I know.” Eddie had learned that lesson the hard way, a crush on a track teammate his junior year of high school going sour, the boy outing him as a part of the rejection. Bullying had been free of charge with the heartbreak. “This had to have been a one time thing, Stan. Don’t worry about it.”

He sat down on the coffee table across from Stan to give him a slightly higher vantage point in relation to Stan’s face. He opened up his makeup, taking out some foundation. 

“So, you have a date tonight?” He asked, applying some foundation to Stan’s forehead. Stan closed his eyes obediently, but his nostrils flared.

“It’s not a date. We aren’t dating.”

“Stan, he’s taking you to see a movie, then probably ice cream or something afterwards, and then you’ll sit in his car with him and hold hands and look into each other’s eyes for like three hours. It’s a date.”  

“Bill doesn’t call them dates.”

“Because you asked him not to.” 

Stan stayed stubbornly silent, and Eddie sighed. 

“You’re worrying about me, but at least my boyfriend--” He cut himself off quickly. Fake boyfriend. Fake, one-time boyfriend. Though, following that logic, Bill technically wasn't Stan's boyfriend either, but that didn't help Eddie's case so he didn't mention it. “At least mine knows that I’m a guy. You have to tell Bill that it’s you, Stan. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to feel when he finds out.” 

“I know.” Stan’s voice went quiet, and Eddie felt a bit bad for even bringing it up. “I’ll tell him.” 

The unspoken ‘eventually’ hung in the air between them but Eddie ignored it, trying to focus his thoughts elsewhere. They landed on Richie, and he nearly cursed out loud. He wasn’t going to think about Richie either. He couldn’t. He was confident that he wouldn’t have to play girlfriend for him again, so there was no point in dwelling on it. Eddie had exchanged his number with multiple people in the past, people he promised to hang out with that had never gotten around to contacting him; people he’d never seen again. It was understandable, he figured, with how big the campus was and how busy college students always were. He just hoped against hope that Richie would turn out the same way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all so much! The kind response to this fic was so unexpected ♡ I hope you all like this chapter too!

“And then she reached up, and she took her wig off--”

“Okay, now you’re bullshitting me.” Mike cut him off again, as Beverly collapsed into giggles on Mike's shoulder. It was the following Friday, and Richie was at one of the grimy Pizza Huts on campus, trying to recount the events of the weekend he’d had with his parents. Or really, it was just one event, but his friend Mike was interrupting him every other minute to call bullshit. Since Beverly had heard the story immediately after the events happened, Richie had hoped maybe she could be some help in his defense, but she just wouldn't stop laughing.

“No, really! She took her wig off, and she had this short hair underneath, right? And she still looked really cute because it was a nice haircut and everything, but she and her roommate Stan were still acting really weird. Stan called me stupid when I asked her if she had cancer.” 

“Wait, Stan?” Mike raised his eyebrows. “Stanley Uris? I know him, I think. He was my lab partner in Biology.”

“Curly hair?” Richie asked. He didn’t know Stan’s last name.

“Jewfro, yeah.” 

“This is so not important.” Beverly cut in. “You’re almost at the best part.” 

Richie flipped her off, and Beverly just returned the favor while Mike consented and waited for Richie to speak.

“Okay, so there was still something I wasn’t getting, right? So then she took her shirt off--”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really! But she did that to show me that she wasn’t a girl. She’s a boy.”

Mike stared at him for nearly a full minute. Richie took a bite of his pizza crust while he waited for him to speak and immediately regretted it; the bread had gone cold and was already slightly stale. He swallowed it anyway.

“...I’m confused.” Mike confessed.

“She--he--was a boy the whole time. He just had makeup and a wig on.”

Mike processed the information for a few moments before shaking his head. 

“This is ridiculous. Only you, man. Something like this would only happen to you.” He said, reaching for his soft drink. His words sounded a little dismissive, like he was about to switch topics, but Richie still wasn’t finished.

“Listen, listen. Here’s the weird part.”

“All of that wasn’t the weird part?” Beverly asked. Richie hadn't yet told her what he was about to say.

“I still really think he’s cute.” Richie confessed. He paused for a moment, looking between his friends. “Is that weird? Like… It’s been nearly a week and I’m still thinking about it.” 

Both of his friends fell silent. Beverly was searching his face in almost a scrutinizing manner, as though searching for an injury or some sign of disease. It made Richie squirm.

“What?” He finally asked her. 

“I think it depends.” She said. “When you think about him, is it him with the wig, or without it? Or even without the makeup?” 

Richie really felt that the correct answer was ‘all of the above’, but confessing that out loud made a jolt of nerves race up his chest. He decided to keep it to himself.

“Wig, mostly.” He finally responded. He’d spent the most time with Eddie while he was in the wig, so he figured that wasn't lying, exactly. 

“Then it’s probably not weird.” Mike said with a shrug. “I mean, you thought he was a girl then. Maybe you just miss Emma.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Richie allotted. He pulled his phone from his pocket, placing it on the table. He did miss Eddie, girl or not. Eddie hadn’t made any effort to contact him, and truth be told, he was pretty bummed out about it. He could reach out first he supposed, and probably would if another week passed with silence between them, but he didn’t want to force himself on Eddie again, especially when he’d shoved him into such an uncomfortable situation the first time they’d met. 

As if on cue, his cell phone began to ring, and by some wild coincidence, it was Eddie. Richie looked down at the contact name, his chest constricting uncomfortably, then back up a his friends.

“What do I do?” He hissed at them.

“Just answer it.” Mike said, like it was that simple and Richie had no cause for concern. But Richie did very much want to answer the phone so he picked the device up, trying to ignore the nerves twisting in his stomach. 

“Wait, put it on speakerphone.” Beverly said quickly. Mike gave her a look. “What? I want to hear too. I'm curious.”

Richie answered the call, putting the phone on speaker like Beverly suggested.

“Hey.” He said. There was silence for a moment. 

“Hi. It’s Eddie.” 

“Yeah, I have caller ID.” 

“...right.” 

Eddie sounded a little awkward; a little nervous. Richie liked that he wasn’t the only nervous idiot. He tried for casual.

“So, what’s up Eddie Spaghetti? What’s going on?” 

“Did… Did you just give me a stupid nickname?” Eddie asked, instead of answering his question. Richie grinned. 

“Sure did.” 

He got an annoyed sounding huff across the line, which made him laugh out loud. 

“Well, I called because I wanted to know when you were planning on inviting me to your mom’s birthday party. It’s this Sunday, so you’d better hurry.”

“What?” Richie asked, nearly falling out of his chair. A moment of scrambled thinking told him that yes, his mother’s birthday was this weekend; he’d completely forgotten, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. “How did you know about that?” 

“Your mom’s been texting me.” Eddie said. “She asked for my phone number last week. It must have happened one of those times that you were staring at me too much, because she wasn’t exactly secretive about it.”

Richie’s face burned, while Beverly stifled a giggle behind her hands. Richie couldn't believe it. He'd been thinking about Eddie nonstop, desperate for a text, while his mother had been chatting to him for the past six days? He knew life wasn't fair, but this seemed pretty high up there on the bullshit scale. 

“So wait.” Richie tried to reel his brain back in. “You want to go to my mom’s birthday party?”

“She kind of already thinks I’m going.” Eddie admitted. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to come, so I was waiting for you to bring it up.” 

“Oh.” Richie wanted Eddie to come, definitely, but decided again to attempt casual. “I mean, you can come if you want to. I can just say something came up if you’ve got other plans. She’d be bummed out, but she’d survive.” 

“I don’t want to bum out your mom.” Eddie said after a moment, and Richie tried his hardest not to smile. He failed spectacularly. 

“I need to get her a birthday gift; it’ll probably be a joint gift, actually. Want to come shopping with me tomorrow, so we can find something for her? We’ll meet up and go buy her a present.”

“Yeah, sounds good. What time?”

“Uh…” Richie infamously didn’t wake up before ten on Saturdays. “Between noon and one? Just text me tomorrow somewhere between then, and I’ll come pick you up.” 

“Alright, cool.”

“Neato.” Neato? Richie silently cursed himself. Eddie also seemed to find it lame, because there was a long silence before Eddie gave an abrupt “yeah” and hung up. Richie replaced his phone in his pocket, just to see a wicked grin on Beverly's face.

“What?” He asked her for the second time that afternoon.

“Sounds like someone's got a date.” She responded cheekily. Richie blanched.

“I… It's not--” He stopped his flustered ramblings when he realized Beverly was right. Eddie would have to dress up to go to his mom's party. “If you want to call a parent's birthday party a date, then sure.”

Beverly raised her eyebrows, but didn't elaborate when Mike glanced over at her, so Richie let the subject drop. 

When he picked Eddie up the next day, it was difficult, at first, to recognize him. He was dressed simply, in black jeans and a light yellow shirt, a jean jacket lined with faux fur thrown over top of everything to keep him warm. He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, smiling in greeting. Richie made to smile back, but in the sudden proximity his eyes caught on Eddie's cheeks and nose; most of Eddie's freckles had been hiding under his makeup, and now that he wasn't wearing any his cheeks were full of them. 

“You okay?” Eddie asked, and Richie realized he'd been staring. Why the fuck was he staring?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Fine.” 

Eddie watched his face for a moment before turning away to buckle his seatbelt. 

“So where are we going?” He asked as they pulled onto the road.

“Not sure.”

“What did you want to get her?” 

“Don't know.”

“This feels like a kidnapping.” Eddie said, and Richie grinned over at him. He mimed holding a phone to his ear, changing his voice into something deeper and comically threatening. 

“I've got 'em. Now you jus’ gotta call tha parents for tha ransom money.” 

Eddie laughed. “My mother would not pay a ransom.” He said. “She's a monster. She would just find you and strangle you herself.” 

“No kidding?” The use of the word 'monster’ sounded strange to Richie's ears, said forcefully. “I'll just get a ransom from your roommate, then.” 

“What are you going to get from Stan? He's a broke college student like you.” 

Richie tapped his finger against his chin, pretending to think hard. 

“His hair products.” He decided. “He has curly hair like me, but he actually styles his.” He gestured to the mess on his head, which he'd tried to tame with only mild success. Beverly was convinced the mop had a mind of its own. 

“Nah, I like it.” Eddie said. Richie glanced over, but Eddie was looking out the window. “It's all… Rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” Richie asked, laughing a bit. “What are you, a cowboy? Who the fuck says 'rowdy’?”

“Shut up.” Eddie protested. “We have to think of a present. What have you gotten your mom for her birthday in the past?” 

It took some hard thinking, but Richie was finally able to remember a few things, including an entire family of garden gnomes, an adult coloring book, and a meter stick worth of Fruit By The Foot.

“Your poor mother.” Eddie said in a voice of vague horror. “Just… Just take us to Target or something. We'll be able to find something there.” 

Shrugging, Richie did. They walked through the aisles, Richie pushing along a cart he only got so he could ride it around. 

“She likes gardening, but she hates dirt.” Richie supplied. “And she likes cats, but she hates animal hair. You know, stuff like that.” 

Eddie nodded absently, walking immediately in the direction of the woman's clothes.

“We shouldn't do that.” Richie said quickly, following after him. “I don't know her size.”

“It's for me.” Eddie clarified. “I've got this dress I've never worn because it shows too much of my shoulders. I want a jacket for it.”

“Hey now, I like a little shoulder.” Richie said cheekily, Eddie shoving him so he stumbled away a few steps. When they got to the jackets Eddie flipped through the hangers while Richie tried on every other thing, laughing when his arms were too long for the sleeves and being fussed at by Eddie when he hung something up wrong. Finally Eddie picked something out, off-white and lacy with shoulder pads, and they headed off to find a gift.

They walked around for a while, but nothing seemed quite right. Richie was close to throwing in the towel and finding a grandpa garden gnome to add to the collection when Eddie gasped, pointing.

“Look! There.” 

“Where?” The only thing Richie saw in Eddie’s line of sight was an old, grouchy-looking woman with thin grey hair and the ugliest sweater Richie had ever seen. It was amazingly horrid, with brightly colored embroidered cats and too many pom-poms. He sort of liked it, actually. “That old lady?”

“No, come over here, you can’t see it from there.” Eddie gripped his arm and dragged him around so he could see the shelf the lady was standing in front of. On the shelf was a moderately-sized fake plant with pretty flowers, sitting in a cute pot with lavender-colored cats chasing each other around the ceramic. 

“Plants without dirt and cats without fur!” Richie said excitedly. “You’re a genius.” 

“I know.” Eddie frowned. “I think the old lady wants it, though.”

“Nah, we’ll get it.” Richie rubbed his hands together, formulating a plan. “Do you want to carry out the theft, or man the getaway car?”

Eddie stared at him. “What?” 

“One of us has to grab the plant out from under her nose, and then that person will hop into the cart, and we’ll speed away.”

Eddie was still staring at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“That’s stupid.” He said flatly. 

“But Eddie, the plant is perfect! You know it’s perfect. It’s the only one like it on the shelf--” All of the other pots had dogs or bunnies on them, not cats “--and we’ve been walking around forever. We won’t find anything better.”

Eddie frowned. In front of them, the woman reached for the plant, evidently having decided to purchase it. Before Richie could react Eddie darted forwards, grabbing the pot from the woman’s hands, holding it close to his chest as he turned on his heel and vaulted into the shopping cart. 

“Go! Go!” He exclaimed in Richie’s shocked face, while the woman raised her voice to shout at them, taking a step forward. Richie got his feet under him and gripped the cart by the handle, dashing down the aisle and away from the scene of the crime. They took turns way too fast, Eddie shrieking when the cart went up on two wheels before Richie righteted it again. They finally stopped in a corner behind a rack of men’s suits, both of them breathless, Richie laughing so hard he could barely stand up straight. Eddie put the flower pot down in the cart. 

“You did it!” Richie exclaimed, and in a wild moment of excitement, cupped Eddie’s face in his hands. Eddie began to laugh as well, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes for a moment. 

“That's the dumbest thing I've ever done.” He said, putting his hands on top of Richie's own. 

“Seriously?” Richie laughed in disbelief and Eddie continued to giggle, his fingers curling around Richie's. “You need to get out more. On our next date we're buying a bunch of cheap ceramic plates and breaking them against the back wall of the Art building.”

“No wonder they say romance is dead.”

“Hey, c’mon Eds! You'd love to go on a plate-breaking date with me.” 

He grinned, Eddie looking over his face for a moment before suddenly pulling back, looking everywhere but actually at Richie, the conversation hitting an abrupt dead end.

“Do you want me to get out?” He asked after a moment, and Richie was so concerned that it took him a second to realize that Eddie was asking about himself staying in the shopping cart.

“Nah, I’ll give you a ride.” Swallowing, wondering what the problem was, Richie made his way over to the checkout. They put their things on the conveyor belt, the cashier looking over their purchases.

“Oh, for your mom?” He asked. “Girlfriend?” 

“Plant is for his mom, jacket is mine.” Eddie answered shortly, before Richie could respond. The cashier gave Eddie a look.

“Hey, uh, that's…” He paused a moment. “That's a girl jacket, you know.”

“And what's your point?”

Richie snorted in an attempt to conceal his laughter, knowing full well that it didn't work and slipping money for both the items under Eddie's hand. Eddie protested immediately. 

“Think of it as compensation!” Richie insisted as they walked back to his car, Eddie still complaining about him paying for the jacket. “You know, for lying to my family for like four hours tomorrow.”

Eddie frowned in consideration.

“Okay.” He allotted. “But if you're paying me, then the jacket would be for last week, when you ran across the street and acted like an idiot.” 

“Fine.” They slid into the car, Richie buckling his seatbelt as he spoke. “What do you want in return for tomorrow, then?” 

Eddie looked over him, scrutinizing and slow. “I don't know.” He finally said. “I'll think of something.”

Richie started up his car, trying to pretend that Eddie's gaze didn't make him nervous.

 

 

  
It was eight on the dot when there was a knock on Eddie's apartment door. He and Stan were sitting together at the table eating cereal, and after a fierce, nonverbal debate, Stan sighed and dragged himself to his feet. Eddie went back to munching his Cheerios, listening as his roommate unlocked and opened the door.

“Why are you here?”

The unusual greeting made Eddie frown; this must be someone they knew, or Stan wouldn’t be so impolite.

“...Eddie.” Came the simple response a few moments later, Eddie freezing when he recognized the voice. His eyes darted to the clock on the microwave again, just to double check the time. Richie wasn’t supposed to pick him up until nine; what was he doing here now?

“Eddie?” Stan called. “The idiot’s here.”

“‘Idiot’ is my middle name.” Richie said lightly, and Eddie got to his feet, acutely aware that he had on a ratty, baggy t-shirt and blue pajama pants with cartoon rainbows all over them. He tried, at least, to drag his hair into something presentable, exiting the kitchen to join his roommate at the front door.

“You’re early.” He accused as soon as Richie was in his line of sight, trying to use indignance to hide his embarrassment. Richie was wearing jeans, a shirt that looked so old and washed so many times that the graphics on it were faded, and a painfully colorful bomber jacket. Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Yeah.” 

“Do…” ‘Yeah’ wasn’t anywhere near reason enough for Richie’s sudden appearance. “Do we need to go soon? Because I’m not…” Eddie gestured to his face in explanation. “I was eating breakfast.”

“Oh no, it’s no rush or anything.” Richie took a hesitant look at Stan, then stepped over the threshold into the living room. “I woke up earlier than I expected, so I came over. I dunno.” 

“Oh.” Okay. So Richie was just here, then. Eddie went back to the kitchen, completely intent on finishing his food, but when Richie followed after him, he felt too nervous and self conscious, pouring his cereal down the drain instead. 

“I’ll, um…” God, he felt so awkward. Richie was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the smallest of smiles on his lips, simply watching him. “I’ll get my bag and get ready, I guess.”

“Sure.” 

Richie sat down on the couch, Eddie walking past him into his room. Stan was in their joint bathroom when he made it in there to grab his makeup bag, giving him a look.

“Shut up.” Eddie sighed.

“I’m just saying, you could always back out.” Stan said. “You didn’t want to get involved, right?” 

“I’m not… I’m not  _ involved _ , Stan.” It felt like a lie as soon as he said it, causing Eddie to ramble. “He’s paying me for this. I’m just a girlfriend for hire. Fake girlfriend with benefits. It’s nothing.” 

Stan just raised his eyebrows.

“You know how messy ‘with benefits’ situations get when someone catches feelings, right?” He asked, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Yes Stan, I know. I’ve seen that Mila Kunis movie.” He ducked to grab his bag from the counter under the sink, Stan making a small sound of amusement. 

“Yeah, but life isn't a rom-com. You’ll just be stuck in that part of the movie where she and Justin Timberlake are just sad all the time.”

“Don’t worry about me, alright?” Eddie said, Stan giving him one more doubtful glance before he turned, walking back into his bedroom. His dress and new jacket were hung over his desk chair, but he’d put them on later to avoid getting any makeup on them.

Richie hadn’t moved from his position on the couch, Eddie sitting down next to him and placing his mirror and bag on the coffee table.

“There’s better lighting in here.” He explained, then got to work. 

It was a slower process than usual, with Richie watching him. Richie asked him what everything did, trying to guess the intended location of every cosmetic item Eddie picked up before he put it on his face. It was funny, and a little bit stupid, and it was quite obvious the further along Eddie got that Richie had never done anything with makeup in his life.

Eddie sat back when he was finished, sighing slightly. His shoulders had relaxed while he worked, the nerves that had flared up when Richie first arrived dying down. Doing makeup was like that for him; a good stress reliever. 

Then Richie beamed at him, poking the tip of his nose, and that nervous feeling--butterflies, god dammit, it was definitely butterflies--was back.

“I can see you!” He said happily. Eddie swallowed, leaning away. 

“...what?” He asked, hoping his emotions weren’t showing in his voice. Richie only smiled wider, and Eddie had no idea what that meant.

“Well, when I first met you I was totally convinced you were a girl, right? Like, you’d done all of this so well,” he gestured to the makeup supplies all around them, “that I was sure you were the cutest girl I’d ever seen. But now I can tell it’s you.”

“Wow, thanks.” Eddie said, Richie waving his hands quickly. 

“No, no, you’re still really adorable. Seriously.” He insisted, and Eddie didn’t respond, focused solely on ignoring the somersaulting in his stomach. “But now that I’ve seen you put it on, I can… I don’t know, see through it, I guess? And see you underneath. I don’t know. I like it though.” 

“Oh.” Again, Eddie didn’t know what to say. “Thanks, I guess.”

Richie just winked at him, causing Eddie to busy himself furiously with collecting up his makeup, throwing it all in his bag in a more haphazard manner than he would under normal circumstances, circumstances where his heart was beating much slower than it was now.

“You going to go get dressed?” Richie asked, Eddie managing out a “yeah,” and dashing to his bedroom. 

He got his dress, jacket, and wig situated with ten minutes to spare, but stayed shut in his bedroom until it was time to leave, not wanting to go back into the living room and make strange small talk and give Richie the chance to say something else that would make him feel like he was five minutes away from going into cardiac arrest. At least he knew all the signs of an oncoming heart attack, and for that he was grateful, going over them like a checklist as he opened his bedroom door. Richie stood from his place on the couch, putting a stupid smile on his face and offering up his arm.

“M’lady.” He said, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Gross.” He declared back, Richie laughing. But Richie still opened the door for him, Eddie calling out to Stan that he was leaving before slipping from the apartment. 

It wasn’t a terribly long drive to Richie’s parents’ house, but it wasn’t a short one either; they’d be in Richie’s car together for a solid forty-five minutes. Richie first talked about the fake plant in the back, the present that they’d stolen under the nose of a poor old lady, recounting the process he’d gone through while trying to wrap it. All of his attempts seemed to have been for naught, because when Eddie looked into the backseat, all he saw was a large green bow slapped on the pot. 

Then Richie talked about the party, and what Eddie could expect. Richie talked a lot, Eddie was coming to realize. Not so much that he didn’t let Eddie get a word in, but still. He always seemed to have something else to say after his previous statement. The only time he wasn’t talking was when he was singing along to the radio. 

Eddie didn't sing along with him, feeling weirdly self conscious about the whole thing, because Richie's voice wasn't too bad. At least, he sounded alright when he was a bit quiet, controlled; more often than not Richie had the window rolled down, singing like he wanted the whole of Maine to hear him and join in. When they hit red lights Richie would air-play any of the instruments in the backing track, and he looked ridiculous, but whenever Eddie laughed Richie's playing simply got more enthusiastic. 

They arrived a little bit late, all of the other guests already at the house. Richie’s father laughed at the gift and Richie’s mother hugged Eddie in greeting, which surprised him a bit, but was kind of nice at the same time. After a round of introductions Richie grabbed a paper plate and raided the buffet table, a mound of party appetizers now in hand, and Eddie sat next to him on one of the couches in the living room, a little ways away from everyone. Richie pointed out each of his relatives, giving names and the occasional fun fact. Eddie nodded along, both trying to memorize Richie’s words and already knowing he wouldn’t be able to remember this.

The couch was plenty big but they sat close, thighs, hips, and shoulders touching as Richie talked quietly. Eddie figured that the physical contact was good, that closeness would indicate more than anything else that yes, he was Richie Tozier’s girlfriend, but in truth when Eddie had sat down he hadn’t been thinking about that. He’d just sat down where he’d wanted, which ended up being very nearly in Richie’s lap _. _

Stan’s cautionary frowning expression came to the forefront of Eddie’s mind, and he pushed it away with a frown of his own. There was no way this was going to go any further, he told himself. This was it, it had to be; the last time he played girlfriend for Richie and his family. He wouldn’t have this opportunity again, so he decided to let himself take advantage of it, just a little bit, leaning slightly against Richie’s shoulder. Richie paused in the middle of saying something about an “Uncle Albert” to glance over at him, but Eddie kept his face neutral, and after a small smile, Richie redirected his attention back to the living room. 

The last time. The notion of that made something stir in his chest, something protesting and sad, and Eddie stomped down those feelings too. This shouldn’t upset him. He should be relieved, actually. He’d be better off when it was over, when he and Richie could go back to two college kids too busy to ever text each other back, and Eddie could get started on forgetting these feelings that he was definitely not already having.

“Grandma isn’t here.” Eddie was brought from his poor attempts at self conviction by Richie’s father, who walked over and stopped in front of them. “She couldn’t make it.”

“That’s too bad.” Richie remarked, without any sort of disappointment in his voice. His father gave him a half reprimanding, half amused look.

“But,” he continued, “she’s coming over for dinner next week. She wants to meet Emma. Are you two free on Friday evening?” He pointed in their direction in a very dad-like way, one finger gun for each of them.

Richie glanced over at Eddie, the same question in his eyes, and Eddie simply had to sit there for a moment, the uselessness of his previous train of thought feeling like it was physically punching him in the face. It was like the universe was trying to tell him he couldn’t escape Richie Tozier. In spite of his best efforts though, Eddie found he didn’t mind; like the first time, he knew agreeing was dumb, but also like the first time, Richie was very cute, and he didn’t have anything going on that day. He nodded, and Richie removed his arm from where it had been slightly squished between Eddie’s shoulder and the back of the couch, putting it around Eddie instead.

“We think we can swing that.” He said.

“Good.” Richie’s dad grinned. “She wants to meet your girlfriend. Told me that she won’t believe a twiggy, scruffy thing like you landed any girl until she sees it with her own two eyes.”

“Thanks.” 

“Her words, not mine.”

“Doesn’t mean you had to say them, though.” 

Mr. Tozier gave a smile that looked remarkably like an older version of one of Richie’s mischievous grins, and walked off to rejoin the party. Richie used his grip on Eddie to give his shoulders a little shake, also shimmying himself in a show of mock excitement.

“Now we have that to look forward to!”

“Can't wait.” Eddie responded, his voice a bit more deadpan than he had intended, and Richie threw his head back in a laugh. 

Before too long, they had to actually get up and socialize. They wandered around, Eddie having to reintroduce himself as they went. Richie was like he had been the first time, sort of hovering and sort of nervous, as though afraid Eddie would slip up and blow their cover. He was also more handsy and Eddie had no idea what was bringing that on, with a palm resting on the small of Eddie's back, or around his waist, or on his shoulder or something. Eddie would glance up at him in question, and Richie would just give him a simple, easy smile. Like this was simple and easy for him. It probably was, Eddie realized. Eddie told himself that it was simple for him too. It should be; he and Richie had only hung out two times before this, and the first time didn't even really count.

The fact that something like this was happening the third time he and Richie had ever spent time together was so funny to Eddie that he ended up laughing in the middle of Uncle Henry's very somber story about his now-deceased pet birds. Eddie quickly shoved an entire macaroon in his mouth and pretended he was choking.

By two in the afternoon, the party had died down. Eddie figured they were going to leave soon, waiting for Richie to return from the bathroom when Mrs. Tozier grabbed his arm. 

“I wanted to show you.” She said, before pulling him over onto the couch. There was a photo album on one of the cushions, and she placed it in Eddie's lap excitedly.

“Want to see some old photos of Richie?” She asked. “I thought you might be interested.”

Eddie nodded, finding that yes, he was very interested, pulling the photo album open. The first picture was a full sized photo of Richie from what looked like middle school, with a mouth full of braces and a face full of acne, long and gangly and poorly dressed, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh.

“Amazing.” He said, just as Richie let out a shout, hurrying into the room.

“Hey! What's that?” 

“You.” Eddie answered, Richie dashing over.

“Mom!” He complained, but Eddie simply kept flipping through pictures, giggling at all of them. “You can't show her those! I wasn't all pretty until I got to high school, and then I still got my ass beat every other day.”

Richie's mother gave him a look that Eddie took to mean “don't say ‘ass’ in front of Aunt Barbara”. Eddie tried to lessen his indignance, worried that if Richie protested too much his mom would take the photo album away. 

“It's okay, I got bullied too.” He said, taken aback by the look of genuine surprise and concern on Richie's face by his confession. “I had asthma until I was twelve.”

“Had asthma?” Richie repeated, sitting down on Eddie's other side. “What happened to it?” 

“Uh…” Eddie was struck with a sudden fear, unsure of what to say. “Grew out of it. Look at those braces though!” 

The distraction didn't quite work, able to feel Richie looking at him, but Eddie didn't look back, continuing to turn pages of the photo album, listening to Mrs. Tozier when she had something to say about a particular picture. He was still thinking about a few of the rather hilarious ones on the drive home, and he must have been smiling, because Richie gave him an exasperated look.

“What photo are you thinking about now?” He asked resignedly. “The broken nose one or the missing tooth one?”

The reminder of the pictures made Eddie laugh.

“Well, now I'm thinking about both.” He said. “I can't believe one of your front teeth is fake.” 

“It's not fair. We can't all be beauty queens, alright? I can't just slap colors on my face and look like a million bucks.”

Eddie opened his mouth to retort, stopping when he was struck with inspiration. 

“That's what I want.”

Richie stared at him for so long that Eddie almost told him to get his eyes back on the road.

“You want me to wear makeup?”

“Yes.”

“So what, if I don't learn how to contour you're going to break up with me?”

“No, stupid. The payment for me doing this for you.” Eddie gestured to his own getup. “You let me put makeup on your face.”

“Oh.” Richie was quiet for a long moment, then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this chapter is a little shorter, but it's a fun one. I've been trying to rework the chapter breaks on this fic, so I might end up bumping the chapter count up to 6 instead of 5. The overall word count isn't changing, but as things stand right now the last chapter is over 8k words and that's a bit of a problem haha  
> I hope everyone likes this part!! thank you all as always!

When they got back to Eddie's apartment, Stan had gone out. Eddie found himself grateful for that, hurrying to the bathroom and washing his own makeup off, changing into normal clothes. He grabbed his makeup bag and a clip for Richie's hair, rather excited about this, walking back into the living room to find Richie sitting on the couch. Eddie perched himself on the coffee table, opening the bag up.

“You going to be able to sit still?” He asked, Richie nodding, fidgeting as he did so, Eddie resisting a laugh at the irony. 

“Pretty me up, Eds.” 

The use of the nickname reminded Eddie of the first and only other time Richie had used it, Eddie sitting in a shopping cart and both of them laughing, Richie's hands big and warm on the sides of his face. Richie had been looking at him with such delight that all Eddie had wanted to do was kiss him, and he’d had to push away. This time, he hid his face by looking down and busied himself with his makeup brushes.

“Don't call me that.” He grumbled, and when he looked back up, Richie was grinning as though he'd just realized Eddie was ticklish or something.

“Sure, Spaghetti Man.”

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” Eddie reached up, pinning Richie's hair out of his face. Then he carefully removed Richie's glasses and set them on the table next to him. When he looked back at Richie, his mouth went completely dry. He looked different without his glasses, his face more angular and balanced now that his eyes weren't comically magnified. 

Eddie was beginning to think that this might be a terrible idea. It might just kill him.

“Now all I can see is you.” Richie said, and though his tone was matter-of-fact, the words themselves were something else, Eddie wondering if Richie really ever listened to himself when he talked. Probably not, he decided, or he wouldn't be able to say half the things he did without embarrassment.

“I'm tanner than you, so the foundation won't quite match, but that's alright.” He said, then got started.

“So, have you ever done this to any of your other friends?” Richie asked. “Or am I special?”

“You’re not special.” 

Richie gave an exaggerated pout. “Who, then? Bill or Stan or something?”

“Yeah. Bill's only let me do it once, but he looked super cute, honestly. Stan though, I do up Stan's face pretty often and he really hates it.” 

“If he hates it, why do you do it?”

“He asks me to.” 

“What? Why?” 

Eddie paused, realizing the conversation was heading down a dangerous path. He considered switching topics, because really this secret wasn’t his to tell, but simply thinking about it made him feel so guilty that he was desperate to let it out to someone. He and Richie were already keeping secrets, after all; what was one more?

“If I’m going to talk about this, you have to promise you won’t say anything to Bill.”

Richie frowned. “Bill? What’s Bill got to do with this?”

“Because… Because I put makeup on Stan so he can go and see Bill.” 

“...you lost me.” Richie said after a long moment. “Aren’t Stan and Bill friends?”

“Well, yeah. But one night I was going out with Stan, to a bar or a club or something, and I was going in drag, and I thought it would be fun if Stan dressed up with me. He didn’t want to, but finally I convinced him.” Eddie naturally spoke quickly, but now his words were coming from his mouth like an avalanche, like the feeling of running so fast down a hill that if he even tried to slow down, he would trip over his own feet and fall on his face. “We ended up seeing Bill there, and Bill knows what I look like in a dress, so he recognized me and started walking over. And Stan was really embarrassed about it, because he has a crush on Bill, so I just introduced Stan as someone else, as a female friend from class or something.”

“And Bill believed it? He couldn’t tell it was Stan?” 

“Right. And then… Well, Stan wasn't so nervous about talking to Bill like usual, so the two of them really hit it off. Bill even kissed him, and gave Stan his phone number at the end of the night. Stan’s been texting him through a messaging app. They’ve been seeing each other.”

“Oh god, wait.” Richie let out a breath, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “So they’re going on dates, but Stan’s in drag? And Bill doesn’t know it’s him?” 

“Yeah.”

“That is really not good.”

“I know.” Eddie put the foundation down, lowering his makeup brush. “I know it isn’t.” 

“Hey now.” Richie said loudly when Eddie didn’t move, putting a finger on Eddie’s chin to raise his head. “It’s not your fault that Stan hasn’t told Bill. That’s on him, not you. This isn't your fault.” 

“It isn’t  _ not  _ my fault, though.” Though Eddie wasn’t directly telling the lie, he’d started it all, and now felt that he was enabling his best friend down the path of getting his heart broken. “I could’ve just not talked Stan into it in the first place, or I could refuse to keep doing his makeup or, or something, but…”

“But you feel bad, so you’re helping anyway.”

“...yeah.” 

Richie sighed. “Well, either Stan will come clean, or it’ll blow up in his face. And you’ll be there to help him with that, too. But for now,” he clapped, the sound loud and startling, “you have some makeup to apply. I want to look beautiful, darling.” 

The last sentence was said in a gracious, old movie star sort of voice, with a bad hair flip to go along with it. In spite of himself Eddie smiled a little, moving to pick up his contour palette. 

It wasn’t the best job Eddie had ever done, Richie a little too twitchy, flinching whenever something got near his eyes. Eddie ended up giving him some deep red lips, with a decent amount of eyeliner and red eyeshadow as well, his eyelids solid silver glitter. The mascara was a struggle, Richie declaring the eyelash curler a medieval torture device, but when it was finally finished Eddie leaned back, taking him in for a moment. They could try fake lashes another day.

“Okay, you’re done.” 

“Ooh, I want to see.” 

Eddie opened his largest eyeshadow palette, handing it over so Richie could use the mirror on the back of the lid.

“Holy shit.” Richie said after a moment, turning his head a couple of times. “The fuck, this is crazy!” 

“It’s not the best, you kept moving--”

“I would totally fuck me.” Richie interrupted, still sounding slightly incredulous, and Eddie nearly fell off the coffee table. “Would you fuck me?” 

“I… I-I-I--” Eddie blushed scarlet, mentally berating his former self. This  _ had  _ been a terrible idea. It  _ was  _ going to kill him. “That’s--”

“I look great.” Richie declared, closing the eyeshadow with a snap and a grin. “I look like a million bucks.”

“Maybe closer to a thousand.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Eds!” 

“I’m not. The base material just didn’t give me much to work with.” Eddie didn’t mean the insult in the slightest, but it helped with the redness on his face. That is, until Richie gave him a delighted expression and simply laughed at his words.

“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair.” Richie said, getting to his feet. Eddie blinked in surprise.

“You don’t want me to take it off?” 

“Course not! I’ve gotta show this off!” 

Eddie simply shook his head a little, unable not to grin. “You’re unbelievable.”

He got a wink in response, the two of them walking to the front door together. 

“See you later, Eddie Spaghetti. I can’t wait to see what you do to me after we have dinner with my grandmother.”

“Don’t…” Eddie closed his eyes. “Don’t say that.” 

Richie laughed again. “Wait.” He said. “I’m wearing lipstick, right?”

“Of course.” 

“Okay, hold still. I’ve always wanted to do this.” 

“What--”

Eddie didn’t get the chance to ask, Richie stepping a little closer to him, holding him still with one hand on the back of his head and the other on his chin. He pressed a firm kiss to Eddie’s cheek, and for a moment Eddie was completely bewildered. Then Richie pulled back, pointing and beaming.

“It’s perfect!” 

“Oh.” Right. Lipstick. Eddie had a red kiss mark on his cheek now, and after a quick goodbye, Richie was out the door. And Eddie simply stood there for a few moments before walking numbly to the couch. A lump was growing in his throat.

The door opened, Stan’s voice preceding him through the doorway.

“Hey, I just passed Captain Dumbass in the hallway. Did you do that to his face?”

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, turning to his friend, but no sound came out. Stan frowned, walking up to him.

“Eddie? You alright?” 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Stan, pressing his face into his chest.

“You were right.” He murmured, trying not to cry. “I’m falling for a straight boy.”

Sighing sympathetically, Stan hugged Eddie back, resting his cheek on the top of his head.

  
  


Eddie spent the next few days going through the five stages of grief. He was lying on the couch, somewhere between bargaining and depression when Stan came in, his wig already off and in his hand. He stormed past the couch and into the bathroom, not heeding Eddie’s calls after him. By the time Eddie reached him Stan had a makeup wipe in his hand, wiping so hard at his face that it looked painful.

“Stan! Stop.” Eddie reached forward and grabbed Stan’s wrist. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Stan let his hand fall to the countertop, and after a moment Eddie released him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. “What happened?” 

Stan was quiet for a long time. He took a deep, shaking inhale.

“Bill kissed me.” 

Eddie had the feeling that was supposed to be a big deal, but it only served to further confuse him.

“Okay? He kissed you the first night too, didn’t he? Haven’t you guys been going out for over a month? Month and a half or something?”

“But he was drunk that first night.” Stan countered, straightening up. “When we first started getting together, hanging out, I told him that they weren’t dates, that we weren’t dating, that I wasn’t his girlfriend. I couldn’t stand it if he called me that.” He let out a shaky laugh. “So we’ve never done anything. We held hands once, maybe, but it wasn't for long.”

“Oh.” Eddie said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

“I was trying to keep at least some distance. I was trying to, to…”

“To what, not get attached or something? Because you’re like four years late on that.” 

“I know. I’m an idiot.” Stan swallowed, tilting his head back, pressing the heels of his palms to his closed eyelids. His voice was thick when he continued. “So just now… He asked if he could kiss me, and I said no.”

“And he did it anyway?” Eddie asked, his voice soft with shock. Bill wasn’t that kind of person; not that Eddie had known. To his relief, Stan shook his head.

“No, no, he didn’t. He just nodded. Accepted it. He was being so wonderful and I just… I just kissed him anyway.”

“Stan…”

“I know. It was horrible.”

“...what?” 

“There was lipgloss everywhere, and it was all sticky and terrible and it reminded me what I was doing and I just jumped away. I wiped it off my mouth and he did the same thing and we just… He just looked at me and he laughed, and he’s so beautiful when he laughs.” Stan’s posture sank again, putting his head in his hands. “I kissed him again. It was perfect.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Bill, uh…” Stan swallowed hard. “He told me so. That he'd never had a kiss like that.”

“Stan.” Eddie sighed. “You have to tell him.” 

“I will.” 

The ‘eventually’ was back, hanging in the air so thickly that Stan may as well have said it anyways.

“You need to tell him soon.”

“...I know. I just… I don't want to lose him.” 

Eddie could tell now by Stan’s voice that he was crying, and decided not to push the issue any further. He rubbed Stan’s back for a moment, trying to think.

“Okay. Both of our lives have been fucked up by straight boys; do you want to just watch Parks and Rec and eat potato chips until we feel better? Or die, whichever comes first?”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and the only idea Eddie currently had. Stan nodded, and Eddie left him alone to clean his face off, collapsing back onto the couch. He’d just let his eyes fall closed, trying to think of anything but how downhill their lives were going, when his phone buzzed. He picked it up.

_ From: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _ Hey, wanna hang out? I picked up two cartons of ice cream and one of them has your name on it _

Richie attached a picture, and true to his word, there were two pint-sized cartons of ice cream sitting on what looked like a kitchen counter, with two spoons. It was a nice thought, and Eddie was incredibly tempted, but he knew he had to be here for Stan.

_ To: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _ Ask me again tomorrow. _

  
  


_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ Ask me again tomorrow. _

Richie frowned at his phone. He hadn’t expected the rejection, and it had hurt a surprising amount, but he supposed he didn’t know what Eddie’s schedule was. Eddie had probably been busy, and just… Didn’t want to tell him why. The period at the end of the text had made the message feel a bit standoffish, so Richie had simply put his phone down for the night.

It was tomorrow now, so Richie sent another text.

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ You still busy, or do you wanna do something? _

The response only took a couple of moments.

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ Sure! I’m not really in the mood for ice cream though. _

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ That’s ok I ate all of it last night _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ WHAT?! That was so much ice cream you freak. _

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ I can fit a lot of food in my belly! I’m not a pipsqueak like you _

Eddie sent back an emoji, the angry one blowing steam from its nose. Richie could imagine Eddie’s annoyed, frustrated face perfectly in his mind’s eye, and found himself smiling at his phone. 

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ What do you wanna do, then?  _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ You asked me. You come up with something.  _

Frowning, Richie fell into thought. All he did in his free time was video games, but that felt lame. What did college kids do on a Thursday afternoon? Go get coffee? Nap? He looked out his window and saw a small group of people at the park, kicking around a soccer ball. He didn’t have a soccer ball.

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ frisbee in the park?  _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _...it’s November. _

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ and? _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ What are you, an ultimate frisbee player? Because that’s lame. _

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ You can just say no _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ Nah, I’m game. You have the frisbee I’m guessing? _

_ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ Yeah _

_ From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _ Seriously, were you on the ultimate team or something? _

__ To: Eds Spagheds  
_ No, I stole it  
_ __ From someone on the ultimate team

This time, Eddie sent an amused emoji back, and again Richie could picture his face, smiling at his phone screen, probably rolling his eyes. Richie jumped to his feet, trying not to seem too eager even to himself, and got ready to go.

As it turned out, he had absolutely nothing to be athletic in, having to go with the average jeans, t-shirt, jacket, and beat-up converse. He ended up getting there first, Eddie jogging over about five minutes later wearing double layers of workout clothes, thin long layers covering his legs and arms, with normal shorts and athletic tee on top. Richie raised his eyebrows.

“Aren’t we fancy.”

“Shut up! I was on the track team in high school. These just still fit, that's all.”

“Yeah? You some kind of track star or something?” 

“Sorta.”

“Really?”

“What, you want to race?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow, the confident grin on his face making Richie’s stomach twist strangely.

“Not in the slightest.” Richie responded, tossing the frisbee at Eddie. 

Richie was not athletic. He could move quickly due to the length of his legs, but his advantages stopped there. His bad eyesight was painfully detrimental to his hand-eye coordination, and his ability to run for more than a solid five seconds was weak at best. He wasn't terribly out of shape, but he was a college kid that ate whatever he wanted, didn't participate in any sports, and had an erratic sleep schedule. It became very obvious very soon that Eddie was not the same way. 

Tossing a frisbee back and forth wasn't exactly a competitive thing, but either way Eddie was completely wiping the floor with him. Eddie laughed and shouted after him whenever he didn't catch the frisbee, and was able to catch it himself without too much trouble. Richie began making his throws more unpredictable, just to get him to run farther. 

By the time Richie felt ready to tap out, despite the cold weather, he had worked up a sweat. Instead of throwing the frisbee again he faked the motion, Eddie's head whipping around to look for it, Richie having to lean forwards he was laughing so hard.

“You're like a dog!” He exclaimed, Eddie shouting back at him to shut up. Richie decided in that moment that Eddie was much too far away, being all the way across the park field, so he grinned, turned on his heel, and ran away.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled, and just as Richie predicted, began running after him. 

Eddie caught up to him easily, and before Richie realized what was happening there were arms around his waist, the extra weight hanging on him causing him to topple to the ground. They fell into the grass together, Eddie landing almost completely on top of him. 

“Caught you.” Eddie sounded a bit breathless. Then he winced. “You are so fucking bony.”

“You wound me.” 

Eddie got to his feet, extending a hand to help Richie up. Richie took it, looking up at Eddie as he stood. Eddie had worked up a sweat too, beads of sweat on the sides of his face, and Richie's eyes caught on one running down the his neck to the hollow of his throat.

“...what?” Eddie asked him. 

“You're sweaty.”

“Yeah, so are you.”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to lick Eddie's neck. Was that weird? Yes. Gross? Definitely. But Richie couldn't stop the realization that he wanted to anyways. Even more surprising, he found that if that desire hadn't been so startling, he probably would have done it already. And Eddie would be punching him in the face right about now.

“...earth to Richie. Hey!” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of his face, Richie taking a step back just to notice that he was still holding Eddie's hand, releasing him and nearly tripping over his own feet as he distanced himself even further. Eddie frowned.

“What's wrong with you?” He asked, and Richie had no idea what to say.

“Thirsty.” He lied. Was that a lie, though? If he wanted to lick the damn sweat off Eddie's neck?

“There's a vending machine inside, I think.” Eddie said, pointing. “We'll get some water bottles.”

Richie nodded, following after Eddie as he led the way.

“That was fun.” Eddie said, throwing a smile over his shoulder. His expression was light and genuine, and Richie nearly bit his own tongue. “You kinda suck, though.” 

“Hey now.” Richie protested. “I’m mediocre.”

“At best, maybe.” 

“Consider me shocked and offended.” 

Eddie laughed, making Richie smile. They reached the vending machine before Richie realized it, Eddie buying both of the waters and handing one over. Eddie cracked his open at once, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a drink, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. And Richie watched, not noticing until his mouth hurt that he was biting his bottom lip. 

_ O-gay. I mean okay. No, I mean gay. This is gay. _

Richie had been thinking about Eddie a lot since the day of his mom’s birthday party. He’d spent the past few days replaying some of his favorite moments: the way Eddie had laughed in the car on the way there, his look of concentration as he leaned in way too close to put lipstick on Richie’s lips, his surprise after Richie had put the kiss mark on his cheek. When really considering it though, Richie realized that he actually hadn’t stopped thinking about Eddie since the day they met, and that caused him to pace for a solid twenty minutes across his room last night, the newly bought cartons of ice cream slowly melting on the counter, before deciding to just send the damn text that was sitting in his message drafts and invite Eddie over.

Richie figured he was just nervous to be making a new friend, though he couldn’t figure out why. Because Eddie was gay, maybe, and he’d never been friends with someone like that? Because he’d seen Eddie in a dress more often than not? But just friends, definitely. Just nervous to make friends. And maybe Richie did have a crush on the “girlfriend” that Eddie would turn into, but the was supposed to like her, so he figured that was okay.

But this side of Eddie was new, lithe and athletic, and Richie couldn’t help but feel it was incredibly unfair that Eddie was able to be so eye-catching in whatever way he decided to present himself in. Wanting to just be friends with someone and wanting to suck on their neck were two very different desires, and Richie suddenly felt very confused, his brain completely incapacitated. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Do… Do you need me to open that for you, or something?” Came a voice, and Eddie was reaching hesitantly towards the hand of Richie’s that was holding the still-closed water bottle, looking concerned. “Do you need to sit down?”

“...what?” 

Eddie frowned. “You’re not going to pass out, are you?”

Richie nearly laughed. “Do I look like I am?”

“Maybe, yeah.” 

“Maybe I do need to sit down, then.” 

They made their way back outside to a park bench, Richie taking a deep breath of the November air before opening his water bottle and finally taking a drink. Eddie was cautiously watching his face, as though worried he would throw up or something.

“Don’t judge me.” Richie said, wanting that concern to leave his face. “This is the first time I’ve done any exercise in nearly twenty years.”

“Isn’t that like… How old you are, though?” 

“Like I said, don’t judge.” 

Eddie almost laughed at that, his worry easing up, sitting back against the bench. They looked out over the park for a few silent moments, Richie about to find something to say when Eddie began laughing, laughing hard, leaning forwards in his seat.

“What?” Richie asked, slightly bewildered.

“You still have some mascara on, that’s all.” Eddie pointed up at his face, at his eyes. “It’s been four whole days and you couldn’t clean it all off?”

“I tried!” Richie exclaimed, grateful for a distraction, for something to talk about. Talking. He could do that. “It’s waterproof or something!”

“Yeah.” Eddie said. “It is waterproof. And you just tried to use water?”

“I was using soap too, but it got in my eye.”

Eddie laughed a little more.

“Do you have any lotion?”

“Eds, I’m a guy. Of course I have lotion.”

Eddie’s nose scrunched up in the cutest way.

“You’re disgusting.” He declared. “Anyways, lotion is a pretty good makeup remover. Use that next time.” 

“Next time.” Richie took another drink of water. “Next time is tomorrow.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. I’m meeting your grandmother tomorrow.” Eddie’s eyebrows drew together slightly in concern. “I’ll text your mom and ask her what time we need to be there.”

“It is so weird that you text my mom.” Richie said. “You text her more than I do.”

“I think that says more about you than it does about me.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Richie said, nudging Eddie with his elbow in a way he hoped was playful. Eddie leaned heavily against his shoulder.

“It does. Shut up.” 

“Sure.” Richie answered, trying and failing miserably to keep a grin off his face when Eddie glanced up at him, obviously having expected a fight. His eyelashes were longer than Richie remembered noticing before. The fact that he was noticing that now, and quite liked it, had him all turned around again. They parted ways shortly after that, Eddie telling him he should probably lay down, but when Richie got back to his room, all he could do was pace.

_ What’s wrong with me? What the fuck do I do? _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t sure if I should/how to put this in the warnings or not so I’ll put it here: Eddie’s background/relationship with his mother is relatively close to canon, and touched on/talked about in this chapter. The homophobia warning also particularly applies to this chapter.

After pondering his newfound Eddie Kaspbrak predicament for a solid thirty minutes and getting absolutely nowhere in terms of answers to his confusions and questions, Richie figured he would never be able to solve the conundrum. So he called the most reasonable person he knew.

“Hey Richie. What's up?”

“Hey Mike.” Just hearing Mike's voice gave Richie the feeling that everything would work out. They would discover why Richie nearly bit his lip in half watching Eddie do something as simple as drink water, and maybe solve world peace along the way. Mike was amazing. “I've got a problem, can you help me out?”

Richie expected a happy, reassuring response. Instead, Mike was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded partly amused and slightly exasperated.

“You too?” He asked.

“What do you mean, me too?”

“Bill did this exact same thing to me yesterday.” Mike said, sounding a little more on the amused side now. “Pray tell, is this a relationship problem?”

“I, no, well…” It was a bit embarrassing, hearing it put that way. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Dude, it's a yes or no question. What did you even just say?”

“It's complicated! That's why I called you.”

“Alright Rich. Elaborate.”

Richie did, telling the tale of Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak from the moment Mike had last seen him. When he was done, there was a long moment of silence from Mike.

“Mikey? You didn't fall asleep on me, did you?”

“...no.” Mike finally said. “Thinking. So… You like him then?”

“I… Wait, what? How did you get to that conclusion?”

“...seriously?”

“Mike, we’ve been over this; I’m a dumbass, remember?”

Mike laughed a little. “He makes you nervous, you like it when you make him laugh, you love spending time with him, and all the staring… Sounds like a crush to me.”

“Are you sure you’re not reading too much into this?”

That earned Richie a second contemplative silence.

“Well, maybe. Maybe you have a crush on the girl side of him, whatever that’s about? We kind of already had this conversation, and I know things have changed since then, but--”

“I don't really see him as a girl anymore, though.” Richie interrupted. “Even when he has a skirt on.”

“So you do like him.”

“...I don’t know.”

“Have you ever thought about kissing him?”

“I…” He was now. God, he was thinking about it now, about how pink Eddie’s lips were and how soft they always looked. He had the overwhelming urge to splash his face with cold water, reminding himself that he was on the phone, and couldn’t do that. “Fuck, Mike. I mean, I’ve kissed him on the cheek--and he’s kissed me on the cheek--but that’s…”

“That’s what?”

“I don’t know!” Richie’s stomach twisted up, a feeling in his chest making him want to squirm. “I…”

“What’s the hang up about?” Mike asked. “There’s something you don’t want to tell me. What is it?”

“I just… I can’t like Eddie--you know _like_ like him--because… Because it’s…”

“Spit it out, Richie.”

“He's a guy!” Richie finally exclaimed. “And I'm not--I _thought_ \--I’ve just never--and I’m… I don't know.” Richie swallowed, his throat now very dry, all of his words crashing together. It had been easy with Eddie there, smiling at him and calling him an idiot, but now it was just him and his thoughts. Thinking was notorious for messing him up, and now he could feel it happening in real time. What was he? Nervous, definitely. Scared. He was a college student, he wasn't a kid anymore; shouldn't he have this figured out by now? “I don't know.”

“Okay.” Mike’s voice was slow and quiet, a polar opposite of Richie’s own. “You don’t have to know everything right now. But let’s focus on what we do know, alright?”

Richie noticed in Mike’s question that his problem had turned into “we”; had turned into their problem.

“Okay. Like what?”

“We think he’s cute, right?”

“I… Yeah. Very. Always has been.”

“Are you worried that maybe you're not really into him? That you just kinda think he's nice to look at, but there's nothing sexual there?”

“Fuck, maybe?” Richie hadn’t even considered that. When he replayed the question in his mind though, he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I wanted to lick his neck today, and I know that’s not very platonic.”

“Oh--wait, you what?!”

Richie winced. “Did I not mention that? He was all sweaty, and I was kinda… Staring.”

A long moment of silence. Mike sighed.

“Richie, I think you like him. Like… For real.”

“...yeah.” Richie said, after rolling the sentence over in his head. The prospect still made him nervous, but it sounded right. It felt right. “I think so too.”

“Alright. Listen, Richie. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Bill, and it's cheesy and stupid and you're going to take it to heart. Are you listening?”

“You've got me a little spooked here, Mikey.”

“Good. People are just people, regardless of how they look, or act, or make you feel. Eddie might be a guy, but if he makes you happy, then that’s that. I think you should go for it. Finding happiness is what life is all about, so say something to him, especially if you think you make him happy too. Things might just work out.”

“You're right, dude. That is cheesy.”

“It's true.” Mike pointed out, and Richie couldn’t argue with him. “Don’t even think too hard about labels, if you don’t want to. That can mess things up. You can just like him, without any of the rest of that stuff.”

“I…” Richie considered that for a moment. Thinking about it, thinking about himself as ‘gay’ made something akin to discomfort race through his stomach, but when he applied the term ‘boyfriend’ to Eddie, he found he rather liked that. So he thought about Eddie, just Eddie, and how Eddie made him feel. “...okay. I think I can do that.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” There was a grin in Mike’s voice. “And don't lick him without asking.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Mike hung up, Richie left in silence. He stopped his pacing and fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Eddie. He liked Eddie. He had a big gay crush on Eddie Kaspbrak. He tried to picture it, the image coming to him startlingly easily; himself and Eddie, simply out and about, walking down the street holding hands. Something in his stomach swooped, the sensation not entirely unpleasant. Maybe they could get milkshakes, drive somewhere quiet, and lay out on the hood of his car, looking at the stars or something. Maybe kissing a little.

Okay, definitely kissing. And more than a little.

Richie’s cell phone buzzed against his chest, bringing him from his daydreaming. It was a text from Eddie, and he quickly opened it.

_From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _Okay, talked to your mom. I’ve got the game plan for tomorrow._

Richie’s thumb hovered over his screen, contemplating a response. Then he decided he would much rather talk to Eddie, sending him a request for a video call.

As soon as he saw himself in his phone screen, waiting for Eddie to pick up, he let out a loud curse. He looked horrible, unshowered and messy. He dragged his hand through his hair, struggling into a sitting position, but before he could do anything more, Eddie picked up.

Eddie’s hair was wet, his face bare, his naked body from the middle of his torso up filling Richie’s phone screen. Richie bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. They stared at each other for a few moments before a blush flooded Eddie’s face, and Richie’s cheeks burned.

“I just got out of the shower!” Eddie protested, as though that wasn't obvious. He angled the camera up, so nothing but his face was visible. “Why the hell are you calling me?”

“How was I supposed to know?” Richie asked back, feeling as flustered and indignant as Eddie sounded. “Why did you answer if you were naked?”

“I don’t know! Shut up.” Eddie frowned at him, his face still red. “...I'm not completely naked.”

“Not completely. Right.” _Great._ Richie gathered his wits about him, trying to salvage the situation. “Gonna put on a show for me, Eds?”

Eddie’s face burned even darker. “Don’t fucking call me that.” He said vehemently. “Do you want the details or not?”

“Okay, sure.”

Eddie’s arm relaxed slightly, more of his shoulders becoming visible, Richie’s eyes catching on the muscle definition in them. Richie swallowed, his mouth incredibly dry, as Eddie grabbed a towel from somewhere offscreen and rubbed it against the side of his head.

“Your parents want us to be there by five, so dinner can start. I always forget that old people eat dinner in the middle of the day. They want us to bring--”

“I’m sorry.” Richie interrupted. “I’m so distracted, I have to ask--are you wearing pants?”

“Yes!” Eddie exclaimed, the blush back on his face.

“Are you sure?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and the next thing Richie knew the camera was being flipped, and he was met with the sight of Eddie in his bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. He did have pants on, Richie recognizing the rainbow printed pajama pants from the morning he'd picked Eddie up for his mom's birthday party. But the pajama pants were the only thing he was wearing, and they were low, showing off his hip bones and as much of his lean chest and stomach as possible. Richie wolf-whistled; Eddie told him to fuck off.

“Your parents want us to bring a fruit salad.” Eddie walked to his bedroom, flipping his camera as he went, and Richie got a nice close up of Eddie's navel before he brought the camera back up to his face.

“I can do that.” Richie said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No problem. What time should I pick you up?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “Four would be fine.” He said.

“Sounds good. See you then.”

Eddie looked to be moving to end the call, Richie stopping him.

“Hold on. Pose for me, Eds.”

“...excuse me?”

“I want to take a screenshot!”

“Why?”

“Because I want to. You know, commemorating the occasion.”

Eddie gave him a thoroughly unamused look. “What occasion? This is stupid.”

“C’mon, Spaghetti. For me?”

His face unchanging, Eddie simply held up his middle finger in Richie's direction. Laughing, Richie took the screenshot, the shutter sound loud.

“Anything else you want from me?”

“Oh, everything, dah-ling.”

“Shut up.” Eddie lips quirked into an almost-smile at the terrible French accent Richie put on. “Goodnight, Richie.”

“Night!”

Richie sat there for a few moments, feeling a stupid smile on his face. He went to the camera roll on his phone to look at the screenshot he took. Eddie looked less deadpan than he had seemed in the moment, his eyes a bit softer, the corners of his lips turned upwards. Richie's eyes then caught on the tiny image of himself in the corner, zooming in with slight incredulity. He was wearing the dumbest, most lovestruck grin he had ever seen.

_“Richie, I think you like him. Like… For real.”_

Richie flopped onto his back again, still smiling to himself. As far as sexual identity crises went, he figured he was handling this pretty well.

  


When Richie picked Eddie up the next day, he looked adorable. His black overall skirt matched the large black bow in his hair, the accessory sitting at the top of a high ponytail. His pastel purple shirt was a long sleeved turtleneck, and while Richie didn't usually like turtlenecks, it looked good on him. He slid into the passenger seat of Richie's car, pushing his bangs from his eyes.

“You look cute.” Richie told him, and Eddie spared him a quick look as he buckled his seatbelt. The makeup on his face was rather simple and subtle.

“Thanks. This is one of my least favorite outfits, though.”

“Why?”

“I had to shave my legs for this.”

Sure enough, the skirt cut off just above the knee, Eddie's legs bare and smooth. Richie resisted the urge to touch them, remembering all at once that he liked Eddie, and fuck, _he_ _liked_ _Eddie_ , and now he was nervous. He put the car into drive, swallowing.

“Well, I think you look nice.”

Richie simply saw Eddie nod out of the corner of his eye. They were quiet for a little while but Richie wanted to talk, finally deciding to ask a stupid question.

“What does wearing a skirt feel like?”

That made Eddie smile. “How about you try one on later tonight? I have a couple you could choose from.”

“No thank you. I'm not that curious.”

“Come on, it would totally complete the look.”

“You only said makeup.” Richie pointed out. “All I'm contractually obligated to put up with is makeup.”

“Fine.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes and laughing. “If your fragile masculinity can't take it, I understand.”

“Hey now. I could argue right back at you that you didn’t need to shave your legs at all. It’s 2018; girls can do whatever they want with their body hair.”

Eddie gave him a look for a couple of moments, raising his eyebrows. He seemed to recognize that Richie was saying his own words back at him, words he’d used when they first met, and after a second or so he shrugged.

“Okay, sure, but I’m meeting your grandmother.” He said, and Richie couldn’t help but feel he had a point. His grandmother definitely wouldn’t take well to a girl with leg hair, and a good first impression would be the most painless way to survive the evening.

“I need to warn you about my grandmother.” He said, Eddie turning to him in concern. “She’s my dad’s mom, and the only grandparent of mine that’s still alive. She got some kinda something--disease, I dunno--a couple years back, and my grandfather talked about he was excited to outlive her. But he didn’t, and now I think she’s alive purely out of spite.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. She's one of those really conservative oldies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like...” Richie sighed, trying to find a way to phrase it that didn’t sound too bad. “She kinda doesn’t trust Mexican people, probably supported Prop 8, you know. That sort of stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Richie spared a glance over; Eddie was frowning. “She’s not my favorite person. She and Beverly got into a bit of a screaming match a couple years ago, and Bev isn’t allowed at family functions anymore. But don’t worry; we’ll get out of there as soon as we can, alright?”

“I’ll be okay.” Eddie said quickly. “Besides, if she gets a too bigoted for me I’ll just rip my wig off or something and run away.”

Richie had to laugh at that mental image. “That might finish her off. You’d give her a heart attack.”

“You think?” Eddie laughed too. “I was worried about your parents, when I first met them; that was my getaway plan.”

“Seriously? Now I kinda wish you’d done that, just so I could see it.”

“It might still happen.”

His parents and grandmother were all sitting in the living room when they arrived. Richie proudly held out the bowl of fruit salad he'd picked up to his father, who brought it into the kitchen while his mom got up and hugged the both of them. She hugged Eddie first, despite Richie being closer to her, Eddie exchanging a look with him over his mother's shoulder.

“Hey, Grandma.” Richie said, once the hugs were over. She was still sitting on the couch. “How are you?”

“Still alive, which is more than Clyde can say.” She responded. “Come give your grandmother a hug.”

Richie did, Eddie trailing awkwardly behind him.

“And who is this?” She asked, gesturing to Eddie when the hug was finished, though Richie could tell by her voice that she was well aware it was his supposed girlfriend. Richie put his hand on Eddie's shoulder.

“Grandma, meet Ed--”

“Emma.” Eddie interrupted quickly, stepping on Richie's foot to cut him off, Richie realizing he'd very nearly said the wrong name. “Emma Kaspbrak. It's wonderful to meet you.”

Grandma gave her a critical once over. “You have a deep voice, for a girl.” She remarked.

“Grandma, that's--”

“I've heard that before.” Eddie responded easily, interrupting Richie again. “It's my voice, though.”

“I like your hair.” Grandma continued. “It's very long.”

“Thank you. I've had short hair too, but I think longer hair suits this look better.”

If Richie didn't find this whole situation so nerve-wracking, he would have been amused by how much Eddie could say without actually lying.

“Well, good thing it's long, or we'd all think you were a lesbian!” The old lady laughed, Richie hearing his father give a hearty chuckle as he walked back in from the kitchen. Eddie didn't even pretend to smile. He opened his mouth as though to say something before seemingly thinking better of it, wetting his lips instead with his tongue and closing them.

“But we all know you're not a dyke, because you're dating this boy here!” Grandma Tozier continued, Richie quite surprised when his grandmother hit his stomach in what might have been a love tap. It felt a little too hard, but maybe that was just her bony knuckles. “I mean, he isn't exactly a hunky dreamboat, but he's man enough, I suppose.”

“You got me there. I don't like girls.” Eddie responded, his voice so dry that Richie properly choked on his tongue. He had to cough a couple of times and Eddie grabbed his arm quickly, guiding him into the kitchen under the guise of getting him some water.

“Okay.” Was all he said, when they found themselves alone. “She's… I get it now.”

“Yeah.” Richie grabbed himself and Eddie both glasses, filling one with water and handing it over to Eddie before getting one for himself. “She's being pretty nice right now, too. You sure this is going to be okay?”

“Yeah. It'll be fine.” Eddie took a drink, something about his expression having Richie doubting the sincerity of his words. But then his parents ushered them into the dining room, and dinner began.

It was pretty standard, as far as spending time with Grandma usually went. She complained about her Jewish neighbors and asked about some extended family members, which led to talk about the birthday party she had missed last week. Richie was hoping he had dodged a bullet, that she wouldn't be asking any of the standard questions she always pestered him with, about his grades or his eating habits or his love life. The meal was all but finished when she turned her eyes on him, magnified a hundred times behind her glasses.

“I am so glad you found this lovely girl.” She said, and he gave her a smile.

“Me too, Grandma.”

“I was so worried.” She went on. “You never had a girlfriend, never had a girlfriend… I was worried you turned out to be a fruitcake. I kept telling Wentworth--get that boy on a sports team! That'll fix him! But I guess all that fretting was for nothing.”

“Fix me?” Richie echoed slowly. Was he broken? Something sick was rising in his chest. “And what would you have to say if I were gay, Grandma?”

“Richie!” His mother exclaimed, as though he'd just used an expletive in church. Richie didn't look at her, holding the old woman’s eye. She looked back almost defiantly.

“It isn't an issue, is it?”

“What if it was?”

“Richie.” Eddie's voice this time, closing a warm hand around the fist he hadn't realized he was clenching. He glanced over, and Eddie gave the smallest shake of his head.

“Yes Richard, I suggest you listen to your girlfriend.” His father looked a mixture of concerned and angry, but hell, Richie was angry too.

“Why don't you and Emma cut up the lemon cake in the kitchen?” His mother asked, her voice forcefully pleasant. “It's about time for dessert.”

Eddie nodded quickly, pulling Richie to his feet and out of the dining room.

“It's okay.” He said quickly, as soon as they were out of earshot. “You don't need to… To defend me, or whatever, especially not at family dinner. It's fine.”

“It's not fine.”

“Richie, your grandmother isn't punching me in the face, so she's nothing compared to all of the bullies I had in high school. I'm fine.” Eddie was still holding onto his hand, Richie easing his fingers from the fist and entwining them with Eddie's instead. In truth, he hadn't been trying to defend Eddie, like Eddie thought he was. His grandmother's bigotry was pouring salt into the open wound that was his newfound confusion and fear. But he needed to reign himself in; he knew that. “I really appreciate it and everything, I do, but let's just eat some cake so we can get out of here.”

“Eddie, I'm--”

“We'll leave, and I'll put some makeup on your face. It'll be fun. For me, at least.”

Eddie was smiling at him. Richie felt the angry knot in his chest tighten just a bit more before loosening completely. God, Eddie made him happy. It was stupid, Richie thought, how quickly and easily this had happened.

“Yeah, okay.”

They were serving up cake slices when his grandmother spoke up again.

“Your fingernails look a bit brittle.” She said to Eddie, slightly waspishly, obviously still miffed from the near-confrontation.

“Do they?” Eddie asked, his voice pleasant.

“You know what causes that? Iron deficiency. Do you take any vitamins?”

“No.” Eddie was suddenly still. “I don’t take anything.”

“Well, you should. They’ll help you, sweetie. And straighten your back; if you don’t keep up good posture you’ll be a hunchback when you’re older.”

“You’re fine.” Richie told him quickly, hating the odd, far away, somehow scared look that was suddenly on Eddie’s face. “Your fingernails and posture are both fine.”

Grandma sent him a wry look.

“I’m just trying to help. You understand that I’m just trying to help you, don’t you sweetie?”

Eddie didn’t respond for a full five seconds. When he finally moved, he put the rest of the plates down on the table rather clumsily, almost as though he’d dropped them, excusing himself to the bathroom. Richie frowned, shrugging at the questioning looks from his parents, wondering if he should go after him. A couple minutes later, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, surprised to see a text from Eddie.

_From: Eds Spagheds  
_ _I need to go home._

Richie decided not to waste time asking more questions. He got to his feet, spreading his arms wide to the table to garner everyone’s attention.

“Not that this hasn’t been lovely, but Emma and I need to go now. The, uh… The fish isn’t agreeing with her.” Richie realized a second after he’d spoken that they’d had chicken for dinner, but didn’t allow time for a comment on his mistake, going into the depths of the house to find Eddie. He knocked on the closed bathroom door.

“Hey, it’s me. Let’s go.”

Eddie looked okay, his makeup immaculate, but Richie noticed on closer inspection that his eyes seemed slightly red. He almost reached for Eddie’s hand, but saw that Eddie had his hands clasped tightly together and decided against it. He called a farewell to his parents, not speaking again until they were well down the road.

“You know, your nails really do look fine.”

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Your posture is fine too.”

“Yeah.”

“...are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

They hit a red light. Richie looked over. Eddie’s eyes were downcast.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, or do you just want me to shut up?” He decided to ask. Eddie’s eyes fell closed.

“Um… Just shut up, for a little while.”

Nodding, Richie simply turned on the radio, fixing his eyes on the road ahead.

  


It wasn’t until Eddie was in his room that he felt he could breathe again. He was surprised that Richie had made it all the way home silently, but he was grateful; he’d needed to get calm, to compartmentalize and repress and just fucking push everything down until it was time for Richie to leave, and he could freak out all alone. But he realized that he still had Richie’s makeup to do, and hoped that it would help; makeup was what usually helped him when he had moments like this.

Richie was still quiet, even when he got up on Eddie’s bed, sitting cross-legged and leaning forwards obediently, closing his eyes and offering his face in Eddie’s direction.

“You, um…” Eddie took Richie’s glasses off his face again, taking him in for a moment. Richie cracked one eye open, and Eddie felt that he’d been caught staring, continuing quickly. “You can talk, or whatever. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Richie ran a hand through his hair, pulling it out of his face, and Eddie realized in that moment that Richie was sitting on his bed. They were both sitting on his bed, less than a foot away from each other. “Am I allowed to ask what Grandma said that got you all fucked up? Because I didn’t really notice anything, but…”

When Eddie didn’t answer, he seemed think that Eddie wanted the subject dropped, and didn’t press the question. Eddie suddenly felt bad; Richie had removed him from his parents’ house without question, without hesitation. And talking about it might help, right?

“I started doing makeup because of my mom.” He began, pulling out his foundation and putting some on Richie’s face.

“The monster woman?” Richie asked. Eddie wasn’t sure where the ‘monster’ had come from, but it felt pretty applicable. He smiled a little, nodding.

“Yep. She fucking stresses me out like no one else even could. So commandeering, and anxious all the time; my dad died of cancer when I was five, and after that happened--not that I can remember it very well, this is all stuff my doctor told me--she started seeing illness everywhere. She thought we were all going to get infected, die, or something… I don’t know, really.”

Richie was frowning at him, obviously confused, but didn’t interrupt.

“And… She didn’t really take care of herself well, but instead of being paranoid about her own wellbeing, she always thought something was wrong with me.”

Eddie swallowed hard. He’d never told anyone about this, he realized. He’d never even talked about it out loud.

“But was there?” Richie asked. “I mean, you said you had asthma.”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t have asthma. I had an inhaler, and a doctor’s note excusing me from P.E., but I didn’t have anything.”

“Your doctor lied to your mom?”

“Not…” Eddie noticed his hands were shaking, and put his brushes down. “Not exactly. My mom asked him to tell me that. To get me a fake inhaler, and tell me the dangers of what could happen if I exerted myself. She was trying to trap me, to keep me from doing anything that might cause me to get hurt. She was terrified of me getting sick. I fucking skinned my knee once while we were in town and she thought I was going to get AIDS.”

“I…” Richie's frown had turned from confusion to concern. “That's fucking insane.”

“I know. You can imagine her reaction when I tried coming out to her.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Richie’s voice was light, but the casual tone sounded slightly forced. Eddie appreciated the effort, though.

“It happened a couple years after I found out about all the fake medications and fake asthma and stuff--because I did find out, my doctor felt guilty about the whole thing and came clean, showed me that they were all placebos and everything. I yelled at her then, but I was still more afraid of her than anything else in the world. I spent a lot of that summer away from her. With Bill mostly, at his house and stuff.” Eddie had also had a giant crush on Bill at the time, but decided not to mention it. “Our relationship was already pretty fucked up, but coming out just put the nail in the coffin. She thought I was just confused. That I was sick, or maybe in a phase she was convinced I'd grow out of, even though I'd known since I was eleven. She… She said a lot of things. We had another fight, and I haven’t really seen her since I moved out to come here.”

“I’m sorry, Eds.” Richie finally said. He reached over and put his hand on Eddie's knee, large and warm and comforting, and Eddie felt a rush of affection and gratitude towards him. “That really fucking sucks.”

“Yeah.” A laugh pulled itself from his throat. “I mean, I’m better off, and I know it, but she’s still my mom, you know?”

His voice sounded a bit broken at the end of the question, Eddie remembering then why he'd never confided in anyone about this before; just saying those words made him feel needy and weak. Weak--weak, fragile, delicate--was the last thing he wanted to feel, ever. He wiped his hands on his skirt, his palms slightly sweaty, and resumed his work on Richie’s face.

“She came to visit me once. I was completely in drag, which was a lucky accident. Wig, dress, everything. And she didn’t recognize me when I opened the door. She didn’t even recognize me when I started talking to her, and… I just exploded. Makeup was always a way to get away from all the fucked up shit going on, and that time I felt like I’d just been completely transformed into another person, someone that wasn’t under her control, that had never been. And I yelled at her. I just… I ripped into her. I said some things I didn’t mean, and some things that I should have said a long time ago. But I don’t regret any of it.”

That wasn't entirely true. Eddie would wake up from bad dreams, his hands scrambling around his bedside table for his inhaler, and in that final moment before remembering that he didn't need it anymore, that he hadn't used it in seven years--in that moment, split seconds before he realized he could breathe, he regretted just about everything.

“So… So when my grandma wanted you to take vitamins…?” Richie trailed off hesitantly, meeting Eddie's eyes.

“It wasn't really that.” Eddie said, rubbing at his eyes. “I mean, it was, but… It was more her defense. My mother always said she was trying to help me. Just trying to help.” For a long time, Eddie had believed her. Richie's grandmother calling him 'sweetie’ had just cemented the situation into a panicked mess. “Sorry for… For making a scene.”

“Dude, no.” Richie drew back sharply, fixing Eddie with a stern look. “If anyone should apologize, it's me.”

“No, you already warned me about your grandmother, I just--”

“Not that.” Richie waved a hand. “I'm sorry, because if I ever meet your mother in person I might just deck her in the face.”

In spite of himself, in spite of everything, Eddie laughed. Once he started, it was hard to stop. He wasn't even really laughing about what Richie said; he simply felt better.

“You okay, Spaghetti Man?” Richie looked mostly amused, but slightly worried as well, reaching forwards and touching his cheek hesitantly. Eddie nodded a bit, trying to refocus on his makeup brushes.

“I've just never told anyone about that before.” He confessed. “My friends already knew--knew most of it, at least. I've never had to say it out loud.”

“Well, I'm glad it makes you laugh.”

It wasn't amused laughter but Eddie didn't want to mention that, instead refocusing on giving Richie his makeover. He let himself get carried away with shapes and colors, and while Richie was still twitchy, he rather liked how it all turned out. His eyelids were yellow, pink, blue, and silver, his lips a deep, purple sort of red. Richie let out a laugh as he looked at his reflection.

“I mean, it looks great.” He said. “But… What would someone wear with a face like this?”

“A face like what? Like yours?” Eddie asked back, Richie lowering the mirror at the question. “You can wear anything, honestly.”

“I'm flattered.”

“No, seriously. You'll wear anything. Your fashion sense is atrocious.”

“Hey!” Richie exclaimed. “And here I thought you were actually complimenting me.”

“Never.” Eddie felt a small smile tug at his lips, getting to his feet and walking to his closet. He knew what Richie was actually asking, and began pulling out things that matched with the makeup’s color scheme. “Probably something simple, right? Here.”

He handed over a skirt, a simple black pleated one that he knew would be a little too short on Richie's long legs. Richie stared at the piece of fabric for a moment.

“C’mon, you asked.” Eddie pointed out, and Richie sighed.

“Fine. Just for you.” He said, poking Eddie in the cheek before taking the skirt from his hands, and Eddie realized that he hadn’t really smiled the whole time he’d done Richie’s makeup, even when Richie had tried cracking a few jokes. Richie was trying to make him smile. That notion sent his heart thrumming in his chest, and he tried his best to ignore it, biting his lip as he searched through his collection of heels.

“Holy shit.” Richie said, Eddie turning around to look. The skirt was barely mid-thigh length, his pale thighs and knobby knees on display for the world to see. He had his hands resting anxiously over his crotch. “How to you not flash the entire world when you wear this?”

“Well, it’s not so short on me.” Eddie answered with a cheeky grin, Richie’s mouth falling open in protest when he realized that Eddie had put him in the tiny skirt on purpose.

“You little shit.” He said, and Eddie began to laugh. “Don’t laugh at me! I look great in this. My waist is even smaller than yours.” He hooked his thumb around the waistband of the skirt and pulled, to show off how much extra room he had. “I could be one of those super skinny runway models.”

“To be a runway model, you’ve got to be able to walk in heels.” Eddie countered, pulling out his highest pair. They really weren’t more than a couple of inches, but Richie eyed them warily. Eddie put the shoes down next to his feet.

“If I break my ankles, will you drive me to the hospital?” He asked, Eddie laughing.

“You aren’t going to break your ankles.” He insisted, and Richie pulled the shoes on. At least, he tried.

“Your feet are smaller than mine!” He said, and sure enough, the heels of his feet were sticking out, making him balance on the balls of his feet as he stood up. He tottered over to the mirror on Eddie’s bedroom door, Eddie following after him cautiously.

“Look at us!” Richie exclaimed, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. He was even ridiculously taller in those shoes. “Two girls, out on the town.”

“Please never go in town looking like this.” Eddie said, Richie laughing. He hobbled back to the bed to sit down, looking very much like a baby giraffe.

“Stop laughing at me.” He complained.

“I wasn’t!”

“You were thinking it, though.” Richie said, turning around to point accusingly at Eddie. The change in direction caught him off balance, teetering dangerously, Eddie rushing forwards and grabbing his arms in an attempt to catch him. But Richie had already resigned himself to falling, landing on his back on Eddie’s bed, letting out a small noise of surprise when Eddie landed on top of him.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked after a moment, at a loss for anything else to say.

“I'm in bed with my girlfriend. Of course I'm okay.” Richie said, and while his tone was light, Eddie noticed that Richie's eyes were on his lips, and suddenly his mouth was too dry for a retort. He watched as Richie trailed a slow gaze over his face, their eyes finally meeting. Eddie knew he should say something, should do something to break this tension, their faces entirely too close, but he couldn't find his tongue.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Richie said.

_Oh._

Eddie knew he should say no. He should get up, and tell Richie to go home. He knew that Richie was only saying this because he still had his makeup on, only saying this because he was in a skirt and a long haired wig. Richie liked _girls_ ; he'd said so himself. He'd called Eddie his girlfriend just seconds before. Richie didn't like him, and Eddie needed to get himself out of this situation before he messed everything up.

But god, Eddie liked Richie.

“Do it, then.” He answered, and a moment later Richie pressed his lips to Eddie's, closing the space between them.

His lips were gentle, careful and unsure, Eddie finding himself the one pushing even closer, his breath stopping in his chest as Richie kissed him back, the pressure of the touch making his heart pound in his chest. Then Richie pulled back slightly and stilled, their breath mingling between them, warm and shallow. Richie's eyes were still closed when Eddie opened his.

"Richie, I..."

At his voice, Richie opened his eyes. Eddie trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say, waiting for the fear, the confusion, the disgust to twist Richie's expression. Instead, Richie stared at him with a look Eddie couldn't read, searching his face as though finding an answer instead of asking a question. Then he leaned in, and kissed Eddie again.

There was no uncertainty this time, no hesitance; Richie’s kisses were strong and steady, like he needed this, needed _him_ , and Eddie's head was spinning. He'd never been kissed like this before. He'd never felt like this while being kissed, so wanting and weak-kneed and _good._ He brought his hands up to cup Richie's face, the realization making his chest ache. This had to end before it could get any further.

"You're only doing this because I'm dressed up." He murmured against Richie's lips. He needed to hear Richie agree, so he could feel the pain he needed to back away from all of this. Because he'd known this was the truth from the beginning, known that Richie was straight, but he'd had to get attached; he had to get his heart broken for it to sink in.

"Try me." Richie responded softly, reaching up as though to pull his wig off. The action made the threat of rejection so sudden and so real that Eddie stopped him, swallowing hard. He wasn't ready to be hurt this badly.

"Just... Hold on." Was all he could say to Richie's questioning glance, lowering his hand--god, Richie's lipstick was such a mess--entwining their fingers instead and giving them a squeeze. He just wanted to remain in this moment a little longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys continue to be amazing, and I can't thank you enough ♡ I hope she doesn't mind me saying this, but the incredible @bbbillys on tumblr drew a gorgeous Eddie from this fic and and you should all definitely check it out!! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

The silence was deafening, a light tug on Eddie’s fingers as Richie pulled his hand away. Before either of them could speak, the front door opened and closed, the noise enough to make Eddie jump. Then Stan’s voice rang out through the apartment.

“Eddie? You home? I brought food if you're hungry.”

Eddie leapt away, desperately attacking Richie's face with makeup wipes. He did the same to his own mouth, trying to get all the smudged lipstick off and hoping against hope that Stan wouldn't come into his room; he was afraid of what Stan would say if he saw them like this.

Richie, who seemed a bit dazed, didn't much protest as Eddie pulled him to his feet and pushed him out the door. Stan watched, noticeably confused by the disheveled way Richie had been dressed--redressed, technically, from the waist down--holding a bowl of chinese takeout and frowning.

“He does know that his shoes were untied and his fly was down, right?” He asked. Eddie tried to run his hands through his hair, feeling nervous, realizing halfway through the motion that he still had his wig on. He took it off.

“I… He is an idiot.” He said, and Stan didn’t debate him on that. Eddie got himself dinner as well, sitting down next to Stan on the couch.

“How are things with him? Everything still fine?” Stan asked, and Eddie had to take a long inhale before speaking.

“Yeah. Fine.” Eddie lied. He had to change the subject, so Stan would start talking and probably wouldn’t notice if he himself started zoning out, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Richie’s lips. “How are things going with Bill?”

The question had been relatively absent-minded, Eddie internally cursing himself as Stan’s entire demeanor withered.

“...that bad?” He finally asked. “Did something happen?”

“No. I mean, I deleted the messaging app, but…”

“You haven’t talked to him? At all?”

“No.”

“And you made it impossible for him to contact you instead.”

“I guess.”

“Stan--”

“I know, alright?” Stan sighed a little. “I know I'm making it worse, but I'm just so terrified that he'll hate me.”

The last words were said in a softer voice, and Eddie put down his chopsticks and lowered his bowl, resting it on his thigh.

“He’s been one of your best friends since seventh grade. He isn't going to hate you.”

“Doesn't… Doesn't that make this worse, though? That I didn't even tell him it was me in the first place? That I tricked him and lied to him instead of just fessing up? And I kissed him, Eddie. I'm a guy, and he's straight, and I _kissed_ him.”

“In all fairness, he asked for it.”

Stan frowned, getting one of the couch pillows and resting it on Eddie’s thigh, curling up and laying his head in Eddie’s lap.

“I miss him.”

“Then talk to him.”

“I will.” Though this was the softest Stan had ever said those words before, his tone had a conviction to it that all other times had been lacking, and now Eddie knew he meant it. “I just need to figure out what to say.”

“Hi, it's Stan. We've actually been dating for the past two months, which is great because I'm hopelessly in love with you.”

Stan laughed a little. “Shut up.”

Despite the victory of cheering up his friend slightly, Eddie went to bed that night with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Richie hadn't attempted to contact him at all that evening. He woke up on Saturday with a message from Maggie Tozier, asking if he was alright after the abrupt exit from dinner the night before. Eddie sent her a quick, reassuring message and that was enough to placate her, no other texts coming for the rest of the day. By the time the sun was going down, Eddie had resigned himself to the fact that this was it. Stan's words-- _I'm a guy, and he's straight, and I kissed him--_ replayed themselves in his head, in their original, mortified tone, and Eddie knew that must have happened. Richie had returned to his senses, realized Eddie truly was a boy, freaked out, and was completely done with him.

Eddie tried to tell himself that it was a good thing. He’d gotten what he wanted; he’d kissed Richie, at least. And now he was quitting, cold turkey. That was supposed to be the way to go, right? Cold turkey, clean break, all over.

Except this break wasn’t exactly clean. It was strange and open-ended, with a bi-curious sort of aftertaste. Eddie wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that.

It was fifteen till midnight when his phone went off. Eddie, splayed across his bedsheets and staring at the ceiling and replaying the kiss for what had to be the hundredth time that day, didn’t notice the text tone until the phone had gone off another seven times.

_From: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _Ok bev I know i’ve been texting you literally all day about this but it’s almost been two days and he hasn’t said anything  
_ _TWO DAYS BEV  
_ _I'M GONNA DIE ALONE  
_ _what do I do??? do I text him??? do I wait??? does he text me??? I kissed him first so i feel like I should give him time or space or whatever idk I think I've heard that somewhere or smthn  
_ _All i know is i need to talk to him bc when i kissed him my soul fucking left my body  
_ _Oh god oh god  
_ _What if he thought it was a bad kiss and he’s never talking to me again  
_ _Bev I know you have no way of knowing but you need to tell me if I’m a bad kisser or not this is CRUCIAL_

Eddie stared at his phone, his heart pounding, sitting up fast. Richie was texting him, thinking he was talking to someone else. Talking about him. About the kiss they'd had. Eddie felt his face burning, reading the messages a couple more times over just to make sure they were real. When he could finally believe they were, all he felt was confusion. None of this added up.

It took ten minutes, but Eddie crafted and sent a reply.

_To: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _No, you're definitely not a bad kisser. And Richie… this isn't Beverly._

A couple of minutes passed, and Eddie couldn't stand to look at his phone, putting it face down on his comforter as he waited. When it buzzed, he scrambled for it.

_From: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _fuck_

That didn't really give Eddie much to work with. Thankfully, he sent four following messages.

_From: Richie Tozier (fake bf)  
_ _Hi um  
_ _That wasn't me pretending to think it wasn't you just so you would talk to me  
_ _But now that i said that it's what it seems like doesn't it fuck  
_ _Fuck I'm just really nervous can I call you?_

Eddie swallowed hard, told himself to breathe, and responded.

_To: Richie Tozier  
_ _Yes._

A few painfully pounding heartbeats later, his phone began to ring. Eddie took a deep breath and answered.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” A pause. “How are you?”

“Nervous.” Eddie confessed, and Richie let out a small, breathless sort of laugh. “So… You were waiting for me to text you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I was waiting for you to text me.”

“Oh.” Another laugh, another pause. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.”

Eddie's heart jumped up into his throat, marveling yet again at Richie's ability to say such embarrassing personal things. Eddie had been thinking about him too, but knew if he tried to say so, he would combust before the words left his mouth.

“Oh.” He said again.

“And I just…” Richie trailed off, his voice coming back sounding louder, more confident. “Actually, I don't want to do this over the phone. Can we meet up?”

“Richie, it's midnight.”

“Do you have class tomorrow or something?”

“...tomorrow is Sunday.”

“I know everywhere is closed, but we can just drive somewhere quiet. I'll buy you a milkshake if you want.” A pause, the confidence beginning to fade from Richie's voice. “You can just say no.”

“No!” Eddie exclaimed quickly. “I mean--that came out wrong, I do want to, I really do, I just…” He never, ever did stuff like this, sneaking out in the middle of the night to hang out with someone. But he reminded himself that he technically wasn't sneaking out, and Richie wasn't just “someone”. He decided to try for fun, playful. “This feels like a kidnapping.”

“Oh, it is.” Richie said, a smile in his voice now, Eddie knowing he’d gotten the reference he’d made to the first time they’d hung out together. “But don't worry, I'll return you soon enough.”

“Okay. And I like strawberry milkshakes.”

“Noted. See you soon.”

“Yeah.”

Richie hung up, and Eddie shoved his face into his pillows. It took him a little while to reign in his smile, to tell himself not to get his hopes up for what Richie wanted to talk about, dragging himself to his closet to find something to wear.

It took an embarrassingly long time. He knew he was supposed to dress casual, finally deciding on sweatpants, a fitted t-shirt, and the trusty lined jean jacket that he wore with everything. Then he grabbed his phone and his keys and waited out in the hallway, so Richie wouldn't knock or something and risk waking Stan.

He was sitting on the floor when Richie approached, a nervous sort of smile on his face and two milkshakes in his hand. He handed the strawberry one to Eddie, who took it in surprise. It was a solid thirty-two ounces of milkshake, at least. Maybe more.

“These are huge!” He protested, accepting the now-empty hand Richie offered him to help him up. His hand was wet and cold from holding the milkshake, but Eddie didn't mind.

“Like I told you, I can fit a lot in my belly.” Richie said, taking a pointed sip from his own milkshake, which was colored orange and smelled of mangos. “I'm not a pipsqueak like you.”

“Shut up.” Eddie retorted, noticing as they walked down the hallway that Richie was still holding his hand, and his heart soared in his chest.

They dropped hands to get into Richie's car, Richie staring it up and driving off. Eddie didn't know where they were going and Richie didn't seem to either, finally ending up in a quiet parking lot, their car the only one there. He cut the engine, the silence heavy.

“Romantic.” Eddie said, for lack of anything else, and Richie laughed.

“You know me, Eds.” Richie looked nervous, wetting his lips and swallowing. “Listen, I need to ask you… Why did you say that yesterday? That I was only kissing you because you had makeup on and stuff?”

“Because…” Eddie had no idea how to handle how genuinely confused Richie looked. “Because it's true, isn't it? You're straight. This whole thing started because you needed to prove to your parents just how straight you are.”

That was incredible irony, and Richie seemed to think so too, because he laughed a little.

“Oh, right.”

“And I know I should have just said no, when you said you wanted to kiss me, but I'm selfish. I like you a lot.” Eddie picked up his milkshake, just for something to do with his nervous hands. “Sorry for messing everything up.”

“Eddie, you didn't do anything. I'm the one that wanted to kiss you.”

“I've been wanting to kiss you for weeks.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And if you gloat about it I'll kill you.”

“No promises.”

Richie took a sip of his milkshake and Eddie glanced over at him, trying to look unamused, but knowing his nerves rendered the expression useless.

“Richie…” The texts, the milkshake, the sitting in the car in the dark, the lack of explanation. “What is all this? What's going on?”

Richie took a deep breath.

“Okay. Well, over the past couple of days I've been having this, this--daydream? Fantasy?--where you and I just walk around and hold hands and drink milkshakes and kiss under the stars; all sorts of cheesy stuff like that. And not Emma, or whatever. You.” Richie swallowed. “I don't know what this makes me, or whatever, but I do know that I like you too.”

“Oh.” Eddie breathed. He wasn't sure what he’d expected--a gentle let down, the request to be a straight guy’s experiment, maybe--but a full confession like that wasn't it. He just sat there, the words sinking in. Daydream. Fantasy. _I like you too._

“I was surprised too.” Richie chuckled. “Turns out you're pretty hot when you're sweaty.”

“Gross.”

That had Richie genuinely laughing, placing his milkshake down and clambering over the center console into the back seat. Eddie watched him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I want to kiss you again, but I'm pretty sure the cup holders will very much get in the way.”

“I told you the milkshakes were too big.” Eddie said, trying very hard to pretend his heart wasn't in his mouth as he followed Richie into the back. There was a quiet, awkward sort of moment, sitting there in silence together before Richie spoke.

“Was… Was that too forward?”

“No.”

“I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, is that normal?”

“Richie, I think you should just kiss me.”

“Right.” Richie laughed, turning to face Eddie. He put a gentle hand on one of Eddie's cheeks, looking over his face for a moment, and while that was all very nice and sweet Eddie very much wanted to kiss Richie again, leaning quickly forwards to close the gap between them.

Again, Richie’s lips were gentle against his own, but the hesitance was gone, Richie’s warm hands coming to rest on each side of Eddie’s waist. Eddie pushed a bit closer, trying to deepen the kiss, Richie’s glasses getting in the way instantly.

“You’re pushing my glasses into my face.” Richie mumbled, a smile in his voice, and Eddie leaned back to pull them off. He folded them carefully, placing them on the center console, and when he turned back Richie was smiling at him.

“Hi.” He said, for lack of anything else, feeling a blush rise on his face.

“Hey.”

“Richie, is this… Is this real?”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked with a laugh.

“Like… Is this really happening?”

“I think so.” Richie replaced his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulled him in, Eddie’s arms finding his neck automatically. “I mean, I like you so much that it’s stupid.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

Richie smiled again, Eddie leaning close and kissing the expression, unable not to smile back. Richie stroked his sides with his thumbs, his gaze angled down, keeping his eyes on the floor of the car as he spoke again.

“Hey Eds, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“I…” Even in the dim parking lot lights, Eddie could see a blush painted across Richie’s cheeks, something in his chest tightening with affection. “Yeah, I do.”

“You sure?” Richie asked, but even as he spoke he was leaning in. “I’m really needy and annoying.”

“Oh my god, just kiss me.”

With another light laugh, Richie did. They stayed in the backseat until the windows became getting incriminatingly foggy, something Richie couldn't stop laughing about, making it back to Eddie's apartment at nearly one a.m. Richie walked him to the door, Eddie unlocking it, opening it, and saying goodnight before Richie turned him around and pulled him close for a strong kiss.

“Goodnight, boyfriend.” He said when he pulled back, and Eddie couldn't help but smile at him. He hummed happily. “Boyfriend. I like that.”

“Yeah? Good.”

There was a loud cough from behind them, Eddie turning as best he could in Richie's arms to see Stan standing there, his arms crossed.

“Night.” Eddie murmured again, and after another chaste kiss, Richie was gone. Eddie closed the front door, his roommate feeling very much like a disapproving parent.

“So, looks like you got involved.” Stan said.

“Yeah, but… He likes me too.” Eddie said, a smile blooming across his face as he said the words, unable to help himself. He was almost too happy to notice the hurt flash in Stan's eyes, but it was there.

“Good for you.” He said shortly. “Try not to wake me up next time you want to go somewhere at midnight.”

Then he was gone, Eddie watching after him hopelessly.

  


Richie was surprised by how little changed once he started dating Eddie Kaspbrak. It’s not like things weren’t different, because they were; he was in a relationship. But he wasn’t a completely new, different person just because it was a guy he was dating, something he’d half expected to happen. He was still Richie. He just had Eddie now.

He and Eddie texted each other near constantly, always wanting to know when the other was free, so they could meet up and see each other--after two days, Richie had Eddie’s class schedule memorized. Eddie met Mike and Beverly, who took to him rather quickly. Eddie and Mike would sometimes talk about Stan, who Mike apparently texted on and off and had met up with a few times to study Biology the previous semester. Small world.

Richie thought he’d sort of been making friends with Stan, who had always been prickly at best, but now whenever he came over to Eddie’s he was pointedly ignored. At first, Richie thought Stan was gearing up for “don’t hurt my best friend” speech, but it never came, and Richie began wondering if Stan actually hated him. So he tried to keep the physical affection to a minimum when Stan was around, just in case it made him angry. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, and sometimes it was just damn impossible, because Richie really, really liked touching Eddie.

To his surprise, Eddie liked it too. Eddie would lean against him, or sit in his lap; Eddie was much more comfortable kissing in public, something that Richie did sometimes find himself uneasy about, worried who was watching and what they might be thinking of him. But those concerns were always fleeting, and fading faster all the time; he came to realize that he liked Eddie too much to care.

“You wanna hear something funny?” Eddie asked one afternoon, a little more than a week into their relationship. They were in Eddie's apartment and Stan was tucked away in his room, so Richie was very much enjoying lying in Eddie's lap, while Eddie was half playing with Richie's hair and half looking at his phone.

“Always.”

“Your mom is worried about our relationship. She wants to know if we're doing okay.”

“Why, because we haven't seen them for a third weekend in a row?”

“Yeah, maybe. What should I tell her?”

Richie thought for a moment, about to give a complete joke answer when something else came to mind. He glanced up at Eddie.

“Want to go on a date?”

“Right now?” He held up his phone. “I thought we were dealing with this.”

Richie sat up. “Yeah, we'll go on a date. You can tell her we're going bowling or something, and we'll take some pictures while we're out and send them to her.”

“Oh.” Eddie smiled a little. “Yeah, sure.”

Eddie got ready quickly, Stan emerging just as they were about to leave. He gave Richie a scathing look before disappearing past them into the kitchen.

“He's just upset.” Eddie said softly, sweeping his hair over his right shoulder.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“He's upset because we figured our shit out before he and Bill did. He and Bill kissed, and now he's been avoiding Bill a lot.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Don't take it personally.”

It was hard not to take such pointed glares personally, but as soon as he and Eddie were alone, it did fade from his mind. Though bowling had just been an example, that was what they ended up doing, and like when they played with the frisbee, Eddie completely destroyed him. It was a bit odd to now actually be dating the “girl” he was with, and while Richie found he was a bit more comfortable kissing him in public while he had the wig and makeup on, he realized he liked it a little less.

“I like the boy you better.” Richie confessed as they were getting back in his car, Eddie glancing over at him.

“Yeah?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“...a little, yeah.”

Richie just offered up a shrug, but Eddie was beaming, leaning over to kiss him. It didn't stop the pictures they took from being any less cute though, Eddie promising to send them but requesting that Richie simply drop him off at his apartment instead of coming in with him.

“I'll do your makeup later; I have a test to study for.” He insisted. “And I know you're going to distract me.”

“I won't!” Richie protested, but the extra fifteen minutes Eddie stayed behind so they could make out in Richie's car once they'd arrived at the apartment building more than proved his point for him.

Richie had his makeup done a couple of days later in Eddie's bedroom, and it was more for fun than repayment, Eddie giving him a sexy, dramatic look with dark eyes and bright red lips. Richie laughed the whole time and Eddie laughed with him, Richie taking a bunch of pictures to send to his friends through Snapchat with dumb captions like _tell me I'm pretty,_ or when Eddie was in them too, some variant about how sexy and talented his boyfriend was.

Richie's face was barely finished when he attacked Eddie with kisses, smudging the makeup beyond repair and covering Eddie in lipstick. When Eddie pulled away, laughing too hard to kiss him back, Richie took another photo, one that ended up being his favorite; himself, his face a makeup disaster, and Eddie, leaning against his chest with his eyes closed and mouth open in a laugh, red lipstick all over his lips and cheeks, a very distinct kiss mark on his neck. After sending that snapchat out, Richie saved it to his camera roll.

“You're a mess.” Eddie told him, still giggling, turning to wrap his arms around Richie's neck, so close and so beautiful, and Richie hummed in agreement.

“Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah.” Eddie answered, catching Richie completely by surprise. “I just might.”

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist, pulling him up onto the bed and pressing their lips together. Eddie mumbled something against his mouth that Richie couldn't decipher, so he pulled back and buried his face into Eddie's neck instead.

“That tickles!” Eddie protested. “You're going to get makeup all over me.”

“Little late for that, Eds.” Richie told him, but when he didn't let up Eddie began tickling him back, digging his fingers into Richie's sides. Richie rolled away with a yelp, his back going over something hard and kind of cold. He realized he was laying on his phone, reaching behind himself to pull it out, frowning when he saw the messenger app open.

“Hold on, hold on.” He extended an arm out to stop Eddie, who was still trying to tickle him. “Something…” He trailed off as he took in the full picture being presented on his phone screen.

He'd sent a text. There were no words though, just a picture, the one he'd saved from Snapchat moments ago, Eddie laughing in his lap, both of them covered incriminatingly in makeup. The photo sported the caption _guess whose boyfriend is cute and red and kissed all over_ , and while that had felt rather cute in the moment, Richie now wanted to set himself on fire. He'd sent the text to his mother.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter is late, sorry! Posting this fic has been wonderful, all of you are unbelievably nice!!! I hope everyone enjoys this last chapter, thank you all for reading ♡

It took a solid thirty seconds for the full ramifications of the text message to sink in, and then the full blown panic started.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck.” One hand scrambled for Eddie, the other gripping his phone, his legs already starting their pacing across Eddie's bedroom. A sick feeling rose in his stomach and twisted everything into a tight, nauseating knot. “Fuck!”

“What? Richie, what's wrong?” Eddie's voice was surprisingly loud, but it was only to be heard over Richie's cursing; he'd raised his own voice without realizing it.

“I--my mom--I just--I don't know how, but…”

Seeming to understand that Richie was unable to make sense, Eddie just took the phone from his hand.

“Fuck.” He breathed, but before he could say anything else, the bedroom door opened.

“You okay?” It was Stan, frowning and sticking his head in. “I heard cursing, but it didn't sound, you know… Good.”

Before either of them could answer, there was a knock on the front door. For a wild moment of panic Richie thought it was his parents, but knew that was nonsensical. The fear showed on his face though, Stan meeting his eyes, and despite how cold Stan had been to him in the past, he looked concerned.

“Don't worry.” He said quickly, his voice unexpectedly reassuring. “I… I'll answer it.”

He disappeared from view, Eddie trailing behind. Since Eddie was holding Richie's hand tightly in his, Richie came too. They entered the living room just in time to see Stan open the door. To everyone's surprise Bill was standing there, and as soon as he saw Stan he reddened and turned away, as though he'd caught Stan naked.

“Bill?” Stan's tone was soft in a way Richie had never heard it, nervous under a forced calm.

“I… I w-w-wanted to talk to you.”

Richie knew Bill had a severe stutter in grade school, but he'd only ever heard it if he was startled or scared.

“Me?”

“Yeah, but if… If you don't want me to see you like this, I understand.”

“See me like what?” Stan asked. He was dressed in normal clothes, from what Richie could tell. “Bill, look at me. What's going on?”

“Are you sure this won't make you uncomfortable?” Bill asked, but as he spoke he was turning back around, lifting his eyes.

“Uncomfortable?” Stan was ringing his hands a little. “Not any more uncomfortable than you're making me right now. Are you going to tell me what you're talking about?”

“Well usually--or recently, the past couple of months I guess--every time I've seen you, you’ve had makeup on, o-or... Or…” Something must have changed in Stan’s expression, because Bill faltered and trailed off. Stan brought his hands to his temples.

“You…” His head fell back, and he covered his face. “You knew it was me.”

“What do you mean?” Bill asked. Now he looked confused, realization coming to Richie slowly.

“That night. At the bar. This whole time.” Stan met Bill’s eyes. “You recognized me?”

“Of course I did. I know everything about you, Stan; a little makeup and a wig isn’t going to change that.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I…” Bill looked uncomfortable, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “Eddie introduced you as a girl, so I thought you were trying to transition, or something. I wanted to support you… I didn’t want to be a jerk and ask about it.”

Stan walked over to the couch and sat down. Bill finally moved from his place in the doorway, hesitantly closing the apartment door behind himself and approaching the couch slowly.

“But… Hold on. Hold on.” Stan placed his palms down on the couch cushions on either sides of his legs, as though trying to ground himself. “Just… What? Eddie’s been dressing up for years, but I do it one time and that’s the conclusion you come to?”

“I didn’t think so at first!” Bill defended. “Honest. I thought it was a joke. But… You were really acting like you didn’t know me, and Eddie was acting like the two of us had never met, and after our third inside joke went completely over your head, I figured something was happening. I knew it was you, but you weren’t acting like you, so… Maybe you were trying to be someone else?”

“...trying to be a girl.” Stan said quietly, a sigh in his voice.

“I didn’t really… You know, seriously think so until… Until after I kissed you, and I asked if I could call you when I, you know, wasn’t drunk, and you said you didn’t have my phone number.”

“...right.” Stan ran a hand down his face.

“I didn’t really get it, but I thought that maybe… Maybe you wanted a fresh start or something? I don’t know how this whole transition thing works.” Bill shrugged, finally sitting down next to Stan. He gave him a hesitant look. “You didn’t buy a whole new phone for this, did you?”

“No.” Stan lifted his head, laughing a little. “I just used a texting app.”

There was a moment of silence, and Richie was completely taken by the expression on Bill’s face when he glanced over at Stan: hopeful, nervous, and enamored all at once. Stan gave his head a small shake, finally looking back at him.

“You… You kissed me. You told me you liked me. But you knew it was me?”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m a guy… And you thought I was transitioning into a girl? That’s just so much, it’s so complicated… And aren't you straight? How did that not freak you out?”

“People are just people.” Bill said, Richie recognizing the words as Mike’s, remembering in that moment that Mike had talked about giving relationship advice to Bill as well. “Stuff like gender isn’t really a concern for me when I like someone. Guy, girl, both, neither… If I like someone, I like them. And I like you.”

Stan stared at him in disbelief for a few more moments before putting his hand on the back of Bill’s neck, pulling him in and kissing him. Richie almost wanted to do something stupid to ruin the moment, but frantic tugging on his arm by his boyfriend reminded him of his own predicament. Eddie showed Richie his phone screen: Richie's mother was texting him.

_From: Mrs. Tozier (Maggie)_   
_Emma? Is Richie with you?_   
_I need to speak with him. He just sent me a concerning message.  
If you do see him, please as him to call me. I’m calling him now._

On cue, Richie’s phone began to buzz. He rapidly retreated into Eddie’s bedroom and closed the door--not that his presence would have bothered Stan and Bill, the two were entirely lost in each other now--taking a couple of deep breaths before answering.

“Hello?”

“Richie.”

“Hi Mom! What’s up?” After an anxious look from Eddie, Richie put his phone on speaker so they could both hear her.

“Richie.” She said again. “I wanted to talk. I just got a concerning message from you.”

“Oh, the picture?” Richie didn’t know if playing it cool would help, but it was his first instinct, and he ran with it. “I didn’t mean to send that to you, sorry.”

She let out a breath.

“Who is that in the picture with you?” She asked. Richie sent a quick glance at Eddie, who looked hopelessly back. He had smudged makeup on his face and neck, his eyes wide and concerned on Richie’s behalf, and Richie felt a rush of affection for him, deciding to tell the truth.

“That’s… That’s my boyfriend, Mom. Eddie Kaspbrak.”

His mother went silent. Eddie was looking at him in a panicked sort of confusion, and Richie tried to convey that it was fine, all fine, but the way his stomach jumped when his mother spoke again had him thinking he probably didn't succeed.

"Boyfri--what about Emma?"

"They..." Richie let out a breath, unsure of how to best explain. "They're the same person, Mom. That is Emma. Emma is a guy named Eddie."

"...I don't understand." His mother finally said, and Richie sighed.

"I know, it's confusing. I was confused too. But the main thing you need to get from all of this is that I have a boyfriend, Mom. I'm dating a guy."

"So you're gay?"

"I..." Eddie reached out and took Richie's hand in his, his grip tight. "I don't know. I'm not sure, exactly, but..." He trailed off, wanting his mother to say something, wanting to know what she was thinking.

"I'll have to tell your father about this, you know." Her voice was soft, Richie unable to read the emotion in it, and his stomach twisted. "I won't show him the picture, but I will have to tell him about this."

"I know, Mom. I'm not... I'm not expecting you to keep it a secret, or whatever. I'm telling you. I'll tell him too.”

"No."

"What..." There was a lump in Richie's throat now at her outright refusal to let him tell his father, and he swallowed. "What do you want to do about this?"

"We need to talk. You, and me, and your father, and... I guess Emma, too."

"Eddie."

She didn't say anything about the correction.

"We'll meet up. We'll come to campus. We'll have breakfast, and we'll talk about this."

Richie couldn't tell if the pleasantries actually were forced or if he just felt they were, but his mouth was dry.

"I... Yeah. Okay."

"Ten o'clock, and... I guess that coffee shop we went to, because your father and I don't know any of the shops down there by name."

Richie could barely believe it. He was going to have a sexuality talk and boyfriend reveal in the middle of a Starbucks. As good of a place as any, he supposed.

"Okay."

A third silence across the line, and then without any parting words, his mother hung up. Richie tossed his phone onto Eddie's bed, feeling nauseated. He didn't want to throw up on Eddie's bedspread, but could r guarantee that it wasn't about to happen.

“I was hoping for an 'I still love you’, but I guess 'I’ll have to tell your father’ has the same kind of sentiment to it, huh?” He glanced over at Eddie, who was looking at him, looking frightened and perplexed all at once.

“Why did you do that?” He asked. Richie blinked.

“What?”

“Why didn't you lie, or, or, I don't know, say anything but that you were dating me?”

“The jig was already up, Eds.” Richie told him. “That picture is pretty obvious. Besides--”

“No.” Eddie’s grip tightened on his hand; it was almost painful. “You can't… I know what it's like to have a shitty relationship with your parents because of stuff like this, and if I do this to you, I'll--”

“Eddie, this was my choice.” Richie said. “I made up my mind. The way you make me feel--how I feel about you--is more important to me than what anyone has to say. Anyone. That includes my parents.”

Eddie's face screwed up into something of painful understanding and he leaned forwards, placing a kiss on Richie's lips. It was simple, close-mouthed and sweet, and Richie's chest ached.

“Can we wash all this stuff off?” He asked, gesturing to his face, and Eddie gave a little laugh.

“Yeah.”

“And then…” Richie wasn't really sure. Eddie raised an eyebrow, bringing a cool makeup wipe to his forehead.

“And then cuddle until you feel better?” He offered. It could have sounded condescending but it didn't, and Richie smiled.

“Only if I get to be the little spoon.”

  


Richie did care though, Eddie knew. Despite what he claimed, Richie cared desperately about what his parents had to say, and that made it all the worse, sitting on his couch at nine-thirty the next morning, waiting for Richie to stop by so they could walk to the coffee shop together. Eddie twisted his hands together, his stomach a storm of worry and growing dread. When faced with a challenge that made him this anxious Eddie usually applied at least a little makeup, using it as armor to prop himself up on, but this time he had refrained. He was going to present himself as masculine as he could to Richie's parents, he decided. He'd had to take off his shirt for the realization to sink in for Richie, and didn't want a repeat of that; he was fairly certain that Starbucks had a no shirt, no service policy.

“You okay?” Stan asked sympathetically as he approached the couch. Or, as sympathetically as he could with a smile on his face.

“No, but it's alright.” Eddie said with a sigh, noticing Stan trying to push down his grin. “You can be happy in front of me, I don't mind. What time did Bill finally leave last night?”

“I… I'm not sure.” Stan confessed. “We talked it out, and properly told each other about our feelings, and then made up for some lost time.” A smile was curling his lips again, and Eddie laughed.

“That good?”

“It's not as dirty as you think it is.” Stan reprimanded. “He said he wants to take me to dinner first, for some damn reason.”

“Hey, he's trying to be a gentleman.”

“He could also just--”

“Don't look too desperate.”

“I'm not desperate!” Stan defended. “I'm in disbelief, more than anything. When you and Richie worked it out, I didn't think the universe would be nice enough to let both of us get what we wanted.”

“And now you just want everything.”

“More or less.”

Eddie laughed a bit.

“Hey.” Stan frowned. “You are no more pure than I am, Kaspbrak.”

“I'm not--”

Don't you dare try to tell me that given the chance you wouldn't just take Richie and--”

“Hey!” The door opened without warning, and Richie was there, and both Stan and Eddie went pink. Richie however, who was slightly jittery and looked like he'd just come from a restlessly sleepless night, didn't seem to notice.

“Hi.” Eddie answered, getting to his feet. “You ready to go?”

Richie simply shrugged, and it was as much of an answer as Eddie figured he would get, so he just took Richie's hand, said farewell to Stan, and they started off. They talked a bit about Bill and Stan's relationship, but it felt like small talk. As the Starbucks came into view, Richie's step faltered.

“How much do you think a plane ticket to Timbuktu is?” He asked, and Eddie smiled gently at him.

“We can't go to Timbuktu. We agreed to do this.” Eddie decided not to mention that they would probably get arrested, figuring that wouldn't help with Richie's nerves. Richie let out a long breath.

“Right.”

They entered the coffee shop, and almost immediately Eddie spotted Mr. and Mrs. Tozier. Mr. Tozier got to his feet as soon as he saw them, and Richie dropped Eddie's hand as though he'd been burned. But the man simply sat back down, and the two of them shuffled over awkwardly. They sat down opposite of the parents at the table, and after a few moments of cripplingly uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Tozier pushed the plate of scones slightly closer to them.

“...I think someone should start explaining.” Mr. Tozier finally said. Eddie glanced at Richie, but he looked slightly green and still hadn't moved, so he decided to speak.

“Hi. I'm, uh… I'm Eddie Kaspbrak.” Nobody spoke, so Eddie continued. “I should probably explain about the… Well, I do makeup sometimes. It doesn't really have much to do with being gay I guess, it's just for fun. So sometimes, if I feel like it--or it's one of those days where I don't feel like wearing pants--I’ll put on a wig instead. The day I met you guys was one of those days. Richie didn't know I was a boy either; he'd never met me before. He asked me if I would pretend to date him so his parents wouldn't think he was gay, and I know what's it's like to have parents that aren't accepting, so I agreed.”

At the insinuation of non-acceptance, Mrs. Tozier leaned back in her chair.

“Richie didn't know he was lying to you. That's all on me, and I'm sorry.”

“Only the first time!” Richie said quickly, looking at Eddie in a way that was almost reprimanding. “I actually walked you back to your apartment because I wanted to ask you out.”

“Oh.” Eddie said quietly.

“Yeah. But then I found out about the real you.”

“It didn't seem to stop you though.” Mr. Tozier said, and the words would have sounded amusing, save for the man's tone.

“It did, actually. For a little while.”

There was silence for a couple more moments, then Mr. Tozier sighed, picked up one of the scones on the table, and took a bite.

“Is this why you almost punched Grandma?” He asked, in a resigned sort of voice. Richie grinned a little, the expression sheepish.

“Yeah. Bev said she was proud of me.”

“Richie, how did you think you could get away with lying to us about this?” Mrs. Tozier asked, her voice higher, faster, and more distressed than her husband's.

“It was working, wasn't it?” Richie shot back, and she didn't dignify that with a response. “I didn't expect any of this to happen, alright? I didn't know Eddie was a guy. I didn't know the two of you exchanged phone numbers. I didn't even know if we would meet each other again after coming to this coffee shop the first time. I didn't know I would fall for him either. I just... I didn't know.”

All eyes were on Richie, and he took a deep, steadying breath. Eddie swallowed, reaching over to take Richie's hand. Their fingers tangled together, resting on one of Richie's thighs, and when he glanced back up he saw Mr. Tozier’s eyes watching them. He tried to pull back, desperate not to worsen the situation, but Richie held on tight. Eddie's heart ached for him, gripping back just as tightly.

“But I'm not sorry for lying to you.” Richie continued. “I knew you would react like this. That… That you would hate me if you knew.”

“Hate you?” Mrs. Tozier echoed, her voice soft. “Hate you? Richie, honey--”

“I know you want grandkids.” Richie interrupted, though his mother's tone caused his voice to lose a majority of its edge. “You've talked to me about passing on this dark and curly hair to little babies nearly every day of my life. And since I'm an only child, what you want from me is pretty clear. That, plus the jokes Dad makes--and the jokes Dad laughs at… I got the message.”

A long moment of silence followed Richie's words, and the Tozier parents looked at each other. Mr. Tozier opened his mouth, but it took him a couple of tries for sound to come out.

“We don't hate you, son.” He said. His eyes were on Richie's face, his gaze strong, and Richie's hand relaxed slightly beneath Eddie's own. “I'll admit, I don't know, completely, how I feel about this. But I know that you're my son, and no matter what, I love you. There are very, very few things you could do in your life to change that, and this is not one of them.”

His eyes flicked to Eddie's own for a moment, and Eddie felt a small jump of nerves in his chest, but he didn't say anything.

“Besides, we do talk about…” Mrs. Tozier looked unsure of herself, her eyes moving between the two sitting in front of her. “Your father and I have talked about how much we like Emma--Eddie, is it? I'm sorry--and you're not a completely different person.”

She said the last words to Eddie, smiling gently, and Eddie gave her a small smile back. This felt good. It felt okay. He gave Richie's hand a gentle squeeze, Richie wetting his lips before opening his mouth.

“Okay.” He said. “Okay.”

He let out a long breath, dropping his gaze and swallowing. Eddie realized what was happening a second before Richie raised his head, his smile small and his eyes watery.

“I, uh… We… I'm going to go.” He declared. “I was up all night stressing about this, and crying in a Starbucks is a little too 'white girl’ for me, but… I'll call you guys, okay? I need… I need some time to just…”

He trailed off. None of what he said was very coherent but Eddie didn't blame him, and the next second Richie was on his feet, Eddie pulled up with him, and they were out the door. They stopped only a couple of steps down the sidewalk, still standing in front of the Starbucks windows, Richie turning on his heel and pulling Eddie into a crushing hug.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, worried now. Richie had bent down a bit to hold him but still Eddie was nearly pulled up off his feet, the arms around his torso so tight and desperate.

“They don't hate me, Eds.” His voice was weak with relief and Eddie relaxed, letting his arms wrap around Richie's shoulders and rubbing his back. “They don't hate me.”

“Of course they don't.” He murmured back, the hug relaxing too after a moment, Richie lifting his wet face from where it had been pressed into Eddie's neck. Eddie noticed in that moment that the Toziers could see the two of them through the window but comforting Richie was infinitely more important, taking Richie's face in his hands and wiping the tears on his cheeks away with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Richie closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, Eddie giving him a smile.

“Crying outside of a Starbucks isn't much better than crying inside of one.” He said, and to that Richie even laughed a little. “Let's leave. Want to go back to my place?”

Richie nodded. Hand in hand, they set off, Eddie unable not to marvel at how much had changed since the last time they left this coffee shop together.

  


Eddie held his hand steady, the eyeliner pencil poised delicately between his fingers as he concentrated, his eyes fixed on the dark skin in front of him.

Then his phone went off, the noise and vibration startling him so much that the eyeliner pencil went flying, a golden glittery streak marring Mike's cheek. Mike jumped back, Eddie glancing down at his phone once he'd gotten his heartbeat back under control.

“Richie!” He yelled into the kitchen, which really was only a few steps away from the living room couch, but the yelling still felt necessary. “Don't text me! I almost took Mike's eye out.”

“It was important!” Richie protested, Eddie rolling his eyes to actually look at what his boyfriend had sent him.

 _From: Richie Tozier (real bf)  
_ _Dont make him prettier than me_

“Don’t make Mike prettier than you?” Eddie asked loudly, Mike beginning to laugh while Richie’s mouth fell open indignantly at his private message becoming public knowledge. “I don’t think that’s possible. Have you seen Mike?”

He pointed the pencil at Mike’s face, who gave a cheesy grin to the kitchen, where Richie, Beverly, Stan, and Bill all were, all of them laughing except Richie. Eddie’s teasing smile was mirrored on Richie’s face though, who continued in an equally loud voice.

“You have all the power, Eds! Give him warts! Give him a huge witch nose!”

“It’s eyeliner, not prosthetics.” Stan deadpanned, Bill wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and nodding along to his words. The six of them were all going out together to a bar Beverly liked. It had been Eddie’s proposition, wanting to do something for Richie to distract his mind; it had been over a week since he'd come out, and the complete radio silence he was getting from his parents, no texts or calls or anything else, had Richie on edge. Eddie was hoping a night of fun would help him to loosen up. He was putting a little makeup on everyone; not much, just enough for everyone to feel cute. Mike was his last victim, returning his attention to Mike’s face and the golden glitter eyeliner pencil in his hand.

The bar was within walking distance--though so was everything else, it was a college town--a little skip entering Beverly’s step as they approached the establishment.

“Do you think the cute bartender will be here tonight?” She asked the group. “He usually works weekends.”

“Every bartender works weekends, Bev.” Richie deadpanned.

“Beverly, I told you last time we were here. His name is Ben.” Bill interjected. “He’s an architecture major, and he’s minoring in literature. He’s really good at poetry.”

All eyes went to Bill. After a moment of silent walking, he glanced back at them uncomfortably.

“What?”

“How the hell do you know all that?” Mike asked.

“We had a class together my first semester, and I just… Remembered. I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! I’m calling bullshit.” Richie declared. “Bill, you don’t remember shit about anybody.”

“I remember stuff.” Bill defended weakly.

“Yeah? What’s my major, then?”

Bill stared at him for almost a minute before offering up a hopeless shrug.

“Case and point, Billiam.”

“Stan's major is accounting. Beverly is majoring in fashion design. I know that.”

“So… The people you've dated.” Mike said slowly. “You remember stuff about them.”

“Fine!” Bill threw his hands up in defeat, his cheeks lighting up pink. “I thought he was cute, alright? We talked sometimes.”

“Ooh, look at us, finally agreeing on someone being cute.” Beverly said in excitement, elbowing Bill’s side. “No offense.” She added quickly to Stan.

“None taken.” Stan assured her. “You’re a bit too woman for my taste.”

Once they entered the bar however, Beverly’s shoulders sagged. Cute bartender wasn’t behind the bar, and they ordered drinks from a peppy brunette before backing into the room to find somewhere to talk.

“What makes him so cute?” Eddie asked curiously.

“Everything.” Beverly responded enthusiastically, taking a big gulp from her drink.

“He has a nice smile.” Bill supplied. “And he’s really…”

“Yeah, he’s just…” Beverly made a hand gesture that Eddie couldn’t decipher. “Like… Strong-looking? Broad-shouldered?”

“Thick?” Mike guessed. “But like… The sexy version of the word, with two ‘c’s?”

“Everything.” Beverly repeated, while the group laughed. “I just want to climb him like a tree.”

“Get it, girl.” Richie encouraged, the two clinking their drinks together. “Ben would be lucky to have you. Hell, anyone would.”

“You guys are talking about me?” Came a voice from behind Eddie, all of them turning, Eddie wheeling completely around. He was met with the sight of a man both taller and broader than himself with sandy colored hair. He had a rag over his shoulder with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, the dustpan full of broken glass. A shocked silence met his appearance, finally broken by Mike giving a small wave.

“Hey, Ben.”

“Uh… Hi.” Ben smiled a little, and Eddie realized Bill was right. He was cute.

“Why aren’t you behind the bar?” Richie asked. “We were looking for you.”

“Clean up on aisle seven.” Ben explained, holding up the dustpan a little higher. “I, um… Sorry for interrupting, I--”

“Beverly wants to climb you like a tree.” Stan said plainly, Beverly turning red and glaring daggers at him. Ben flushed as well, but he gave Beverly a small smile.

“I might have a ladder in the back.” He managed out, looking terribly embarrassed the entire time, and the abashed flirtiness caught Beverly by such surprise that she fully spilled her drink down the front of her shirt. It was funny until they realized how see through her shirt was now that it was wet, Bill, Mike, and Richie making a protective circle around her.

“All jokes aside, I do have an extra shirt in the back.” Ben said quickly, more serious now. “You can wear it if you'd like.”

Beverly gave him a smile, the expression partially relieved, but mostly enamored.

“Yes, please.”

“Looks like our work here is done.” Richie remarked, watching their retreating backs. He abandoned his drink on a nearby table, grabbing Eddie’s arm and spinning him around. “C’mon, Eds! Let’s dance!”

Eddie quickly learned that Richie was a terrible dancer, a discovery that was both delightful and completely hilarious all at once. Richie laughed and spun and kissed him openly, pressing smile after smile to his lips, and Eddie was happy to see him so relaxed.

With Beverly very content to sit at the bar, wrapped up in an oversized flannel that was not her own, Stan and Bill wrapped in each other, and Mike off chatting and making new friends--something Eddie noticed he was remarkably good at--Eddie found himself and Richie alone.

“Having fun?” Eddie asked him, Richie humming in agreement and stepping close, pulling Eddie into his arms and swaying slowly.

“Thanks.” He murmured, his voice surprisingly serious. “I know why you did this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

“Are you alright?” Eddie asked him, and Richie laughed a little.

“Yeah! I’m just a little tipsy. And a little happy about how wonderful you are.”

Eddie kissed him quickly. “How do you say embarrassing shit like that?” He asked, and Richie laughed.

“It’s not embarrassing! It’s just how I feel.”

Though it was still a couple of hours until midnight, the two of them decided to say farewell to their friends. The air was cool on their trek back, Richie taking his hand, swinging their arms as they walked and humming to himself. He was about to start singing, opening his mouth, when instead his phone went off.

Frowning in confusion, he pulled the device from his pocket. Eddie continued to walk, stopping when Richie’s grip tightened on his hand, frozen in his tracks.

“Rich?” Eddie returned to his side, concerned. “What is it?”

“My parents.” Richie said quietly, staring at his phone screen, and Eddie’s stomach twisted with nerves. “My dad texted me.”

“What did he say?”

“They… They want to know if you and I are free this weekend.” Richie said, his face breaking out into a smile as he read the message. “‘Your mother and I want to properly get to know Eddie. I’ll try to keep her from giving him the third degree again, but no promises.’ They want us to come over for dinner on Sunday.”

“Really?” Eddie asked in surprise, pulling Richie’s phone from his hand, who was smiling too hard to even protest. He read the message with his own eyes before looking back at Richie, who was simply standing on the sidewalk, smiling in slight disbelief, running his hands through his hair. Then it all seemed to sink in at once and he all but ran at Eddie, sweeping him off his feet and up into his arms, twirling him around. He pressed a few kisses to Eddie’s neck, the place he could best reach, Eddie laughing and holding Richie’s face in his hands.

“What is it with your parents and dinner parties?” He asked and Richie just laughed, Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

“It’s going to be okay, Eds.” He said, the smile in his voice causing Eddie’s chest to swell with joy. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Of course it is.” Eddie ran his fingers through Richie’s hair. He loved this; this carefree exuberance, this happiness, the light shining in Richie’s eyes. And he was starting to think that he might just love Richie, too. “Now kiss me.”

Beaming, still holding him tightly, Richie did.


End file.
